Fragile Walls
by LiveInMyHead
Summary: Sam and Dean are on the trail of a succubus. Not only do they have to deal with the hunt being more than it seems, they have to face the tenuous nature of Sam's mental state. Set Season 6 after Sam has his soul back complete with Great Wall of Sam and assumes that Sam did not talk with Cas about what he did.
1. Chapter 1

Rated for language, violence and some sexual situations down the road.

Disclaimer - I wish I did, but I don't own any piece of Supernatural. *sigh*

* * *

Sam winced as his brother's voice hit a note not currently on any scale (thank God) as he belted along to his Rush tape blaring through the car. Sam didn't much like any of Dean's music, especially when he chose to inundate him with his own private Dean concert, but Rush was the worst. All those high notes…it was a miracle the windows hadn't blown out when Dean tried and failed his very best to hit them. He glanced over at his brother with a pained look, but Dean was paying him no attention. He was tapping the wheel with his thumbs, every now and again striking an imaginary cymbal with his index finger, eyes darting over the road.

Sam couldn't help the smile that curved up one side of his mouth. It was nice to see Dean approaching some semblance of happy, even if it was only a poor imitation of what it used to be. Sam had watched Dean's light dim with sadness and helplessness, even as he knew his own was running out of juice, but every now and again it would flare back up. It never seemed to recharge, though, too much damage for it to shine through. As Dean said, the hits just kept coming, and they both kept themselves braced for the next inevitable blow at all times. For now, though, there were things to be happy about; neither of them was hurt or bleeding at the moment, they had a hunt, and Sam had his soul. Life was pretty good, considering.

The tape ended and the cabin of the car was filled with only the rumbling of the engine and the ringing in Sam's ears that would hopefully fade before Dean switched the tape. He didn't see Dean reaching for one right away and he breathed a small sigh of relief.

"So Sammy succubus, huh?" Dean said, glancing over at him. He hadn't missed the grimaces on Sam's face as he tried to match Geddy Lee's pitch. While it was hilarious, he figured he had tortured Sam enough. They were only fifty miles or so from the city in Illinois that housed their next job, so he might as well make sure they had a game plan for the hunt.

"Yeah, that's what Bobby said, no doubt about it. She's already taken three victims. Sucked them dry," Sam explained as he reached back his long arm to grab his only recently discarded laptop. He had needed a break from all the reading.

Dean grinned. "Yeah, I'll just bet she did," he said with a leer, wiggling his eyebrows. Sam rolled his eyes and opened the lid. A sex demon was sure to get his brother's interest. The computer was already on the news article he had been looking at.

"Why's he sure it's a succubus?" Dean asked.

"He's been tracking it across a few states, has a lot of paperwork on her. Always four victims, so we got to get moving or she'll move on again," Sam replied, recalling his conversation with Bobby.

"Okay, hit me up with the details," Dean said.

"The men all ranged between twenty five and thirty five. All were married. As far as I can find, there aren't any connections between them beyond that. I'm still digging through credit card and bank receipts, but so far nothing." Sam sighed wearily. He wasn't kidding when he said there were no connections. He had spent the night before and most of the day comparing these men's lives and there wasn't anything in common. That was going to make it just a bit challenging to track down the succubus if they can't figure out who the next victim might be.

"Okay, so we head in, talk to the families, check with the cops, figure out what to do next. You get any sense of how long she fed on them before they turned into jerky?" Dean asked, glancing over at his brother, eyebrow cocked.

Sam pulled up the spreadsheet he had started to sort out the details. Dean glanced over at the screen and rolled his eyes with a groan at the blatant evidence of the geekiness of his brother. Even though he was always impressed with Sam's abilities to organize and grateful for it more often than not, his derision really was expected of him and he didn't want to disappoint his little brother. Things between them had been hard enough lately, he wanted to make everything as normal as possible.

"Looks like a five day window. Number one was reported missing about a week before he was found. Autopsy indicates the time of death was approximately five days after he was last seen. The other two didn't disappear. Their wives said the men had been acting strangely five days before they finally died. They were going out late at night when everyone was in bed, sleeping badly when they were home, and not eating. Very lethargic. The coroner reports are all different. None of the wounds were the same and causes of death were different. We've got one exsanguination from multiple stab wounds, strangulation, and head trauma." Sam paused a moment, his forehead wrinkling into familiar lines. "You know, it's weird actually, a succubus victim is usually just some dried out husk, they don't kill them like that," he pondered.

"I guess this one likes to play with her food," Dean commented grimly. "Not that I don't trust Bobby's research, but that doesn't sound like a succubus. Why's Bobby so sure it is?"

"I asked him the same thing. Said he was sure, the he'd seen what he needed to in the autopsy reports. Definite signs of malnutrition, dehydration and anemia." Sam couldn't fault Bobby's skills in piecing together information. He was rarely wrong and when he was, he caught it before anyone else did.

"Have the cops connected them?" Dean asked.

"No, the different causes of death are throwing them off," Sam replied.

That made sense to Dean and made him wonder if there was something to the more visible causes of death. As if it was intentional that the succubus was trying to hide behind the more "normal" murders that pop up. They didn't normally bother, there wasn't any reason to. People weren't exactly on the lookout for succubi. Maybe she had already crossed paths with hunters before and decided to change up her mo. to keep them off her trail. Bobby was probably the only person that could have connected these deaths, so it was a smart move on her part. Just not good enough.

Dean glanced down at the odometer. "We've still got about forty five miles to go. Once we hit town, let's grab a hotel and get started. I'm thinking the freshest succubus buffet should be where we start. Might pick up the trail a bit faster. I'm sure we don't have long before she finds her number four."

"Sounds good." Sam dropped the laptop lid again. For just a moment he considered using the silence and Dean's amiable mood to get Dean to talk about what had happened when he was without a soul, but he already knew what the response would be. Dean would tell him to shut it and put some music on at top volume. He knew it was out of concern, Dean had told him that he wasn't supposed to pick at the little scraps of memory that floated through his mind in fear of ruining Death's good work and flooding him full of Hell visions. Yet, he needed to know. Sam wasn't the type to just accept things as they were. He questioned, he sought out the answers, and he was tenacious. It was impossible for him to just sit back and ignore that he'd been topside for eighteen months, eighteen months that he knew were not his best. He needed to know, even understanding the consequences. He couldn't rest knowing that he had hurt people, had hurt Dean in ways he didn't even know. How could he put it right, if that was even possible, if he didn't know what he had done?

"Sam, stop," Dean growled from beside him.

Sam looked over at him sharply, brows drawn down tight to his nose, not sure what he was referring to.

Dean glanced at him then, all joking and calm gone. His eyes were hard and warning, his lips tight.

"I can hear you thinking, scratching. Just stop. I know it's hard, I know it goes against everything you are, but put some effort in it. You need to treat that wall like it's made out of plutonium and even just looking at it wrong can set it off," he warned.

For a moment, Sam considered denying that had been where his thoughts were, but he knew that wasn't going to fly with his brother. "Dean, it's not like I can just ignore what's in my head, I'm starting to remember things…"

"Dammit Sam, yes you can ignore it!" Dean interrupted harshly, smacking the heel of his hand on the steering wheel, going zero to sixty in the space of seconds. He looked over at him again, his eyes filled with anger and concern in equal measure. "You find a spot in your brainpan not already filled with crap and you tuck it away. You just shove it down and brick it up. It's doable. I do it every damn day." The anger in his eyes and voice faded to weariness, something Sam was getting really tired of seeing. It was so much worse than anything else, just another sign that Dean was another step closer to giving up.

"I'm not like you Dean. I haven't had years of practice bottling up everything bad that's ever happened to me. I get that's how you cope, I do, but that ain't me, man. I talk about it, I face it." Sam paused, seeing his brother's jaw clench in reaction to his words. He didn't mean it to come out quite so harsh, but the words were true. "I know that it's dangerous, I know that it's stupid even, but I can't stop it," he explained.

Dean was trying to decide if he wanted to pull the car over to beat some sense into his brother or running away so he could scream at the world. He knew this wasn't going to work. Even as he had agreed to Death's idea to restore his brother's soul, he knew that asking Sam to resist poking at the vague memories was going to be impossible. He questioned _everything. _It's the only option he had, though. He couldn't deal with Sam as he was, so cold, so calculating. He may as well have been dead. He tried to kill Bobby for fuck's sake, the closest thing they had ever had to a caring parent. He had given Dean up to a vampire, something that could have easily gone tragically wrong. Who knew what else he had done as Robo-Sam, what else we would have done if he had kept on?

Dean couldn't breathe knowing his brother's soul, Sammy, was still in that cage. It was too much to have Sam there with him, breathing, heart beating, but dead to him. All the things that made Sam _Sam _were gone, still down in the cage with the Devil. The risk was worth it, but he was going to do everything he could to keep Sam safe. That kid was all he had and he wasn't letting him go without a fight. Even if it was Sam he had to fight.

Dean sighed, running an agitated hand down his jaw. "Just do me one favor, okay? Just try. That's all I'm asking. Just try. Please Sammy," he said quietly, as close to begging as he was willing to get at this point.

Sam heard that plea and it cut him right down to the bone. It wasn't often Dean asked him for anything. He stared at his brother's profile, seeing the fear in the downward turn of his mouth, the clench of his jaw. How could he deny him? A bit of effort, some self-discipline, and he could try to avoid the memories, right? He bit back the sigh that started to form. Sam knew that he could think and say all he wanted, but he knew that he couldn't keep this promise he was about to make to ease his brother's worry. It simply wasn't possible.

"Sure Dean. I will try." Sam's right hand clenched in a fist so tight that his blunt nails cut into his palm. He hated lying to his brother, hated it, but it was a necessary evil in this case.

Dean threw a small smile his way, but it didn't reach his eyes. He knew Sam couldn't really make that promise, knew he was lying, but he couldn't hold him accountable for it. He may as well have asked Sam to quit breathing. They both knew that there was going to be a bad end to this. Neither wanted to say it, wanted to face it, but they knew. It always ended badly for the Winchesters.

Needing to relieve the tension that now filled the silence, Dean reached down to grab another tape to resume the abuse on Sam's eardrums. Chick flick over. Even Sam was glad to let this one end.

* * *

The motel they pulled into was dirt cheap and they didn't even get what they paid for in this case. One of the beds didn't even have sheets on it and the toilet didn't have a lid. The kitchen sink wasn't even worth talking about and the smell was beyond awful. The carpet was pulled up and curling in places, the stains indicating that people had either died there, had an immense amount of fun, or, even worse, both. It was pitiful, but it was going to be home for the next few days. More incentive to finish this job up quickly.

"We have stayed in some nasty places, but this one takes the grand prize for yuck," Dean remarked, tossing his duffel on the bed closest to the door, his gaze moving disdainfully over all the plentiful examples of said "yuck".

Sam shrugged, setting his duffel on the other bed, the one with the sheets. For once, Dean's insistence on bed order worked in his favor. "Yeah. I doubt we'll be here much, we have a lot of ground to cover," he replied, already digging into the duffel for the suit and tie. They would be FBI for a while today.

Dean slumped into one of the chairs at the small table by the window, rubbing his hands over his face, then letting them drop to his lap. Sam glanced over at him, then took a longer look, seeing something in his brother's face that concerned him. Dean's green eyes were glassy and unfocused, staring at nothing that Sam could see. The lines of his face were stark, the light coming in from the window making him appear older than his years. His older brother looked so tired, so dejected, like he was carrying a load far too heavy and he knew he was coming to the end of his strength. It was going to drop and it would be catastrophic when it did.

"Dean?" he asked quietly. His brother looked up at him, his eyes sharpening as he focused in on Sam. "You okay man?"

For just the space of a breath, Dean actually looked like he was going to say something that would actually give Sam some idea of what was tormenting him. There was no automatic wise crack, no smoothing of his features to blank out any emotion. He just looked back at Sam intently. Sam started to move forward so he could sit on the edge of the bed.

"We should take a vacation after this. Just go somewhere and run through the ABCs of debauchery. Relax a bit. I think we've earned it," Dean blurted, his trademark grin spreading across his face, all misery wiped out of his eyes, leaving them vacant.

Sam stopped his forward momentum sharply at Dean's words, disappointment clouding his features. Of course Dean wasn't actually going to talk about anything, it was a day ending in "y" after all. He could feel the anger burning up inside him, the desire to push and pull the words out of Dean with either harsh words or anxious pleading, but staring at the desperate green eyes of his brother, eyes that were begging him to drop it even with that fake smile plastered on his face, he couldn't do it. Besides, it's not like he didn't know what was eating his brother. That was an easy answer; everything.

"Yeah, yeah Dean. We really should," he agreed, unable to keep the sadness out of his voice or the concern out of his eyes.

It was lip service. They both knew there would be no vacations for them any time soon. Sam could at least read between the lines. It wasn't anything Dean hadn't already said before. He was tired. Tired of fighting and losing, tired of having to stand in front of all the bad things in the world and take what they dish out to keep everyone safe. It's not like it got him anywhere. Sam was tired too, that was one thing he could understand, but he wasn't going to give up and he wouldn't let Dean either. They did have something to fight for and it was each other.

Dean wanted to talk to Sam, he was actually at the point where he felt the need to unload, but he could see the strain on his little brother's face, see the doubts, the fear that comes from having eighteen months erased from your mind. He wasn't going to make that worse. He could only imagine how Sam was feeling and he refused to add to his burden. Dean was an expert at stuffing down his issues, shoving them so far inside that they almost ceased to exist. He knew it was like nuclear waste, though. It might be out of sight, but it's never going away and it's going to fester and seethe and rot everything it touched. He took out what he could on the things he killed, he tried to drink or fuck through the rest, and whatever was left would just have to stay put until,/ or more importantly if, he could deal with it. So no making things worse for Sammy. Not right now.

So instead, he got on with the job. He stood and grabbed his duffle off the bed. "Gimme ten minutes and I'll do my Wonder Woman trick in the bathroom and emerge the valiant Agent Richards," Dean called out as he disappeared into the less than sanitary room.

Sam watched him go silently, knowing he was giving major puppy eyes as Dean liked to say, but he couldn't help it. It was just another lost moment, another opportunity for them to sort out some of the issues between them snatched away by Dean's drive to appear taciturn and unshakeable for his little brother. With a big sigh, he started to undress. They had work to do.

* * *

The most recent victim was Jacob Schraeder; thirty four years old, married with one child. He was a mortgage consultant with a big firm, did well for himself judging from the impressive house they pulled up in front of. He had been found yesterday by his wife on their front porch. He was naked and unmarked except for some abrasions on his neck and wrists.

They spoke to Ashley Schraeder, a petite pretty woman with devastated eyes, but she was unable to tell them anything they didn't already know. Jacob had been out later than normal one night and when he came home, he acted normal. For each day after that until his death, he became more and more run down, not eating, not sleeping. He stayed home from work since that first night. She woke up to find him gone each night, but he couldn't tell her where he'd been when he got back. She had been positive he was seeing someone, but he seemed so sick and so genuinely frightened that she thought it had to be something else. He had an appointment to see the family doctor the morning she found his body.

Dean and Sam didn't stay long, it was clear she wasn't hiding anything. Reviewing the witness statements Sam was able to appropriate from his creative access into the police database, it was a very common story that all the victims shared. They needed to narrow down that first night that kept them out late. They decided to grab some food and go over the financial information.

It was Dean who saw it and it wasn't really surprising once it came clear what the link might be. "Dude!" he exclaimed, the word muffled by the mouthful of bacon cheeseburger that he was currently working on. Sam grimaced as he looked up in time to see that mouthful in full Technicolor before Dean closed his mouth again.

"God Dean, swallow before you speak, that's nasty. What are you, five?" Sam grumbled, picking at his salad with a fork in one hand and working the mouse on the laptop with the other. Dean smiled extra big at him, his white teeth littered with chewed up burger. Sam just glared at him and shook his head slightly. "What do you got?" he asked when Dean finally finished his bite.

"Such a princess," Dean remarked, still smiling. Seeing the start of Sam's infamous bitch face, he considered that a job well done and moved along with his find. "Check these out. Credit card statements from the victims. Tracking back five or six days from their time of death, they all have charges from "Misty's". What better place for a succubus to find victims than a strip joint, huh?" he asked with a smirk.

"How do you know that's a strip club Dean? It could be a bar or something," Sam asked, not missing Dean's delight in getting to freely scope out said strip joint in the name of the job. Few things made Dean happier than strippers.

Dean leaned back in the booth, eyebrows raised suggestively. "Because there are three things a man must know when pulling into town; where to crash, where to drink, and where to see some ass without having to be subtle about it. I have needs!" he exclaimed with a thankfully clean smile. Sam just shook his head in resignation.

Dean knew Sam thought he was basically a caveman as far as his wants went; food, women, booze and the thrill of the hunt. That wasn't really the case, it's just that Dean knew that the life he had chosen only allowed the simple pleasures. Anything more ended in tears or blood. He'd lived his whole life denying himself to take care of Sam or his Dad. So he ate like a horse because who knew when he would get to eat again? He drank to excess because sometimes the only thing that kept him going was forgetting for just a little while. The women made him feel like he was something more than just a soldier, more than a brother, that he was _Dean_. They wanted him for him, even if it was just for a night. The hunt? Because what else was there, really? Saving lives was as good as it got, it had purpose. Unlike Sam, Dean knew that this life was his normal and sometimes he was okay with that. Sometimes.

"Actually Dean, I'm pretty sure the cops checked it out. They can pull up bank statements too, you know." Sam was already tapping away at his laptop to find the document that was tickling at his memory. "Yeah, here we go. Misty's. They checked it Dean, nothing unusual." He shrugged in dismissal.

For just a moment Dean looked totally crestfallen, like someone had swapped his burger with tofu. Then he perked back up. "Maybe so, but they don't know what we know Sam. They probably weren't looking for the right thing."

Sam just stared at him, not at all buying what Dean selling. "I'm not getting out of this, am I?"

"Absolutely not," Dean replied firmly. "C'mon Sam, how often do we get to actually case someplace awesome in the name of the job, huh? It'll be fun, I'll buy you a lap dance, Sammy! Hell, I'll get you two! At the same time, huh?" Dean was wiggling his eyebrows lasciviously.

Sam shoved his salad aside and leaned forward over the table, hands clasped loosely before him. "You remember the last time a case brought us to a strip club, right? You almost chopped my head off with an axe," Sam stated dryly. Dean standing over him, his eyes filled with rage yet strangely dead, axe raised, intention in every line of his body was a sight Sam would never be able to erase from his mind. It's one of the things he would actually like to stuff behind that wall. Then there were the things he had said to Dean. Unforgiveable.

For a moment, Dean stilled, anything that might be considered emotion draining out of his face. It was clearly not a good memory for him either. His eyes met Sam's briefly, then skittered away, but not before Sam saw the guilt and sadness that still lingered from the event. Sam sighed, cursing himself for even bringing it up. There was enough crap in their present to deal with, there was no point in unearthing the unresolved crap in their past.

"Yeah, well I don't think we need to worry about a repeat of anything like that. Succubi can definitely mess with your mind, but not to that extent," Dean said, a bit more sharply than he intended. He knew it wasn't Sam's fault that what he said hit him so hard. He had brought up a good point, but damn if it wasn't hard to think about that, to remember those words. What he had almost done. There was a bit of lingering silence while Dean chewed another bite of his burger. "Besides," he started, wiping his mouth off with a napkin, "it's not like we really have a choice here. We have to go, right? Might as well enjoy it, unless you became a eunuch when I wasn't looking. Though with you, it would be hard to tell." That big grin was firmly back in place, the pain brought about by Sam's careless words stuffed back in and forgotten. Sam's smile and rolled eyes at the remark dissipated the remaining tension in his body.

Sam didn't want to chase that renewed excitement out of Dean, but he couldn't really share it. True, it wasn't really his scene, but there was something that didn't feel right about it to him. Dean had only ever gotten him to go to a place like that once and it's not like it was an entertaining excursion. It was a job, just like it was this time. Yet, that didn't seem to faze Dean at all. He was like a kid that's had too much sugar being told they were going to Disneyland and who cares if he had to take out the trash and clean the bathrooms while he was there? He hadn't seen any sort of joy on Dean's face since he woke up after getting resouled, just worry, concern and blankness. He would just need to shake this feeling and man up. His brother deserved it.

"Okay, but don't forget that we're working. We have to case the joint for the succubus and her victim, not get drunk and stuff dollar bills into thongs," Sam warned.

Dean looked at him like he was an alien species with its head and butt reversed. "Dude, you are such a killjoy. Why don't you just put on a dress?" he asked in pained disgust. Shaking his head in playful disappointment, Dean grabbed his wallet to lay down enough bills to cover their meal and tip.

"I'm sorry if my idea of a good time doesn't involve glitter and daddy issues," Sam retorted with his usual half smile, closing up his laptop and sliding out of the booth.

"Don't knock it until you try it, Sammy boy," Dean replied, following him out of the restaurant. "Besides, succubi normally go after sexually repressed men because they have all the love juice in cold storage. You're putting yourself in danger. In fact, maybe we'll just use you as bait."

The brothers both slid into the Impala, smiling and feeling lighter than they had in weeks. It was nice, being able to joke and tease each other. There had been some mines in the field that were almost stepped on, but it was still a far cry from the interactions they normally had now. It was a sign that, while things could never be the way they were, maybe they could be better.

Since they had a lead to check, they decided to go back to the hotel to get out of their FBI costumes. Dean was planning on some TV, lots of beer and a nap. Sam thought that sounded pretty good to him as well. There wasn't a need to bother the families of any more victims and they had what they needed from police reports. They would head out later that night to go check out Misty's. If they found the succubus, it was easy enough to kill; beheading, salting and burning. Kids play compared to a demon. True, succubi were very strong and had some wicked teeth and nails in their true form, but that described a lot of things that they had hunted and killed. Dean had even taken one out with his Dad when he was fifteen, so they had experience. It was looking to be an easy hunt for a change.

* * *

To be continued...

Thanks for reading! Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

Rated for language, violence and some sexual situations down the road.

Disclaimer - I wish I did, but I don't own any piece of Supernatural. *sigh*

* * *

Misty's was located in downtown and not in nearly as bad of a neighborhood as one might expect. The outside wasn't covered in neon lights and suggestive pictures of half naked women, just a sign that said "Misty's" in an italicized script, surrounded by small white lights. It just looked like any other building. There was no missing the muted throb of the music inside, but Sam was still a bit surprised at how normal it all looked as they walked over from the parking lot. Dean caught the confusion wrinkling his forehead and smacked him lightly in the chest, chuckling.

"You've seen too many movies, Sammy," he remarked, grinning widely at his brother.

Dean was in an excellent mood. He was finally getting to bring his baby brother back to a den of inequity, a house of sin. Well, maybe not that bad, this wasn't the Bunny Ranch or anything, but it was close. Sam was too uptight, needed to relax a bit. Dean understood that this wasn't necessarily Sam's first choice for a night out, and that their last visit to a place like this hadn't exactly ended well, but he was hoping that this time would be different. That once he saw the enjoyment that could be had from getting to watch women undress for you without having to think of the right thing to say or worrying about beer and pretzel breath, Sam might just loosen up and enjoy himself for a minute. Sam liked women, women liked Sam, he just chose not to act on it. He wanted, needed, to see his brother smile again, bring some of the energy back to his eyes. Dean knew that he could use the same for himself. Neither one of them had had much to smile about recently. Well, _ever_, really.

Eyeing the bouncer at the door, Sam wondered if he could find a decent excuse to head back to the car to wait. Glancing over at his brother, who was practically trembling with excitement, he knew there wasn't an excuse short of imminent death that would assuage the guilt that he would feel ruining Dean's night. He could practically hear Dean's voice in his head; "_Buck up girly pants! It's beautiful naked women not a nest of starving vamp! What the hell is wrong with you? Did you go gay on me all of sudden?!" _Sam wasn't sure why he was so reluctant to go inside, why it took him several seconds too long to hand his id to the bouncer, why he nearly let the door shut after Dean went inside without following him. As the throb of music grew exponentially as he stepped inside it hit him, a brief flash of memory. A woman, naked except for a barely there g-string, rubbing her body against him, her mouth panting against his. Another flash. This time the woman was beneath him, but there was fear in her eyes and she was begging him, saying no over and over…..

"Sam? Sammy!"

Dean's voice brought him out of the memory sharply. His brother's brows were furrowed in concern as he walked back to where Sam had stopped by the door. His little brother's clenched fists and bunched up shoulders immediately told him something wasn't right. He grabbed Sam's arm and pulled him into an alcove by the wall. Sam stood there docilely, head down, chin buried in his chest, his breathing harsh and shallow.

"Hey man, are you all right?" Dean asked, ducking down to get a look at Sam's face buried in the curtain of his hair, finally putting both hands around Sam's head to lever it up. He caught the horrified and guilty look in his brother's bluish-green eyes before they skipped away to focus elsewhere. Dean sighed, one hand dropping to Sam's shoulder, the other going to the back of his own neck, trying to squeeze away the tension and fear that was edging into his body. Sam had remembered something and it wasn't good. Question was, was it a hell memory or a soulless memory?

"Sammy, talk to me man. C'mon," Dean urged him, eyes roving over Sam's strained features with mounting alarm.

Sam could hear his brother, could hear the worry that was quickly becoming panic in his voice and he wanted to reassure him, but for the moment he just couldn't respond. It was taking all he had to keep breathing, to keep from falling down to his knees and absolutely losing his shit at the memories that had assaulted him. There hadn't been anything else after that, but he wasn't sure there needed to be. He could feel that woman's terror and helplessness, could feel the absolute lack of anything inside him except for determination. It was so foreign, so unfamiliar. He was horrified about what he may have done, had probably done. Part of him wanted more of the memories, another part didn't feel the need to ever know how the rest of that went.

"Fight it Sam. Shove it back, focus on the now. Listen to me!" Dean shouted, his voice commanding and rough as he shook his brother, trying to snap him out of it. Sam was really starting to scare him and he didn't know what to do. One thing that he knew couldn't hurt was to get him out of there, he could barely hear himself think over the music. Dragging him by one arm, Dean pulled the door open and they stepped back out into the night. The bouncer threw them a look, but Dean didn't acknowledge him. He kept them moving until they were back by the Impala, fully intending to take Sam back to the hotel.

"No!" Sam stopped suddenly, planting his heels. The cool air on his face cleared some of the haze that had settled over his mind. When he saw that Dean was getting them ready to leave, he knew he had to stop him.

Dean felt the resistance as Sam pulled back against him. He turned to Sam, releasing the handle of the passenger door to focus fully on his brother. Sam's eyes were steady on his now, and while they were still haunted, he could see the determination the matched the stubborn clench of his jaw.

"You back with me now, Sammy?" Dean asked. At Sam's nod, he continued. "Welcome back, man. Let's get you back to the hotel, okay?"

Dean turned back to the car to pull open the door, but Sam stopped him with a hand on his arm. "No Dean, I'm fine. We've got to take care of this or the succubus will get someone else," he explained, relieved to hear that his voice was much steadier than he himself felt at the moment.

For a long, uncomfortable moment, Dean just stared at him with narrowed eyes, reading every line of a face he knew better than his own. He could see the tension that pulled the skin tightly across his cheekbones, the panic in the furrow between his eyebrows, hear his unsteady breathing. Sam was struggling and, while he certainly looked better than he did inside the club, he was in no shape to be working tonight.

"Nope, we're going back," he stated decisively, pulling open the door of the car and started to not so gently push Sam in that general direction. Sam shrugged off Dean's guiding hand and moved further back. Dean turned to look at him, the expression on his face making it clear that he would pick Sam up and haul him into the car if had to.

"Dean..," Sam started.

"This isn't a discussion, Sam," Dean growled out, reaching over to take Sam's arm again. Sam stopped him with a firm hand on Dean's shoulder. The message was clear. Sam wasn't going and Dean would have to manhandle him to get him in the car.

"Dean listen to me. I'm okay. Yes, I had a memory and yes it freaked me out, but I'm okay. I did what you said. I pushed it down and it faded away," Sam explained in a rush, knowing that Dean was seconds away from carrying out the threat evident in the tense line of his body and shoving Sam in the car. "I promise, I'm fine. Let's go do what we need to do in there, we can't let someone else die," he pleaded. He knew it wasn't fair to dangle some innocent person's death in front of Dean, but he had to do what he could to deter him from full on "TAKE CARE OF SAMMY AT ALL COSTS" mode.

It worked. It took some time and Sam had to do his best to appear solid and earnest, but it did get Dean back on the job. Bit by bit, he could see Dean backing down, relaxing back so that Sam's arm fell back to his side. He clearly didn't love the idea, but he knew Sam was right.

"You're sure you're ok?" Dean asked again. "Because I could handle this on my own, it's just some recon." At Sam's nod, he sighed and shut the door of the Impala.

Everything in Dean was screaming for him to get Sam out of there, but he knew his little brother was right. This could be their last chance to get the bitch before she moved on. Besides, it's not like he could help him escape from his own head. Well, a well placed fist or copious amounts of alcohol might do the trick, but he didn't think Sam would appreciate either. He could tell that Sam thought he was overreacting, but Dean knew that whatever Sam had seen had impacted him significantly. His brother's best "I'm fine" act wasn't fooling him this time. Dean was the expert on deflection and he knew it when he saw it. Dean knew that making them leave now wouldn't help, they would both be devoured by guilt if they next victim was taken because they didn't go back in tonight. Guilt had eaten enough of the Winchester brothers and they really needed to avoid adding to it as much as possible. There wasn't much of them left.

"Okay, we'll do this, but you tell me if it starts to get bad again. This is not something we can fuck with, you understand me Sam?" Dean demanded, the panic still just under the rough tones of his voice.

"I promise Dean," Sam replied, looking his brother firmly in the eyes.

They both turned back to head toward the club. Sam saw the tension in Dean's shoulders, in his stride, tension that had been absent when they first arrived. Dean had been so stoked to go here, even knowing that he might end up having to kill something that could kill him at some point during the night, but that was gone now. He knew there was only one thing on Dean's mind now; his brother's well-being. If the memories were flashing in, did that mean the wall was coming down? Was this just something they had to expect? Sam couldn't stop the guilt from welling up inside him. Maybe he should have let Dean just finish this out alone, maybe he would have been able to salvage something out of the night.

"What was it anyway?" Dean asked reluctantly as they continued towards the club. He knew he shouldn't ask. It wasn't exactly abiding by his rule of "No Scratching", but he couldn't help but wonder if it was a Hell memory or something Sam had done topside while his soul was still being used as a chew toy in the cage. He didn't really want Sam to remember any of it, but Hell seeping back in would be much worse. "I'm not asking for details or anything, in fact, don't think of any details, but was it.."

"Hell?" Sam broke in. He glanced over to see Dean nod. "No, no it was something from the last eighteen months."

A bit of tension eased out of Dean. Soulless Sam wasn't exactly a Boy Scout, Dean knew he had done some pretty awful things that his Sammy was going to have a really tough time dealing with if (hopefully) and when (probably, damn Winchester luck) it came back to him, but Hell was going to be the deal breaker. Hell is what kept Dean up at night, what made him drink himself to oblivion, what made his stare at his gun a little too much when cleaning it. Not the torture that was done to him, though that was beyond awful, it was he himself had done to others. That was never going away. Even if Sam didn't have to deal with that horror show, he had no doubt at all that what he had dealt with was worse. Lucifer only had Sam to play with to pass the time and he was sure that's exactly what he did. He doubted Michael was much help at all. He didn't want Sam to have to go through the agony that filled Dean whenever he closed his eyes and he was going to do everything he could to keep that wall firmly in place.

Dean flashed a smile to the bouncer that was staring at them rather suspiciously as they reached the door. He knew that they had earned his attention storming out of the place just a few minutes after they went in, so he had to do his best to diffuse what was no doubt his intention to keep them out. "Cold feet," Dean snorted derisively, pointing his thumb over at Sam who looked back over at him in dismay. The expression darting over the bouncer's face screamed "Keep them out!", but the brothers managed to silently work together to appear harmless. He just shrugged and let them go past.

Pulling open the door, Dean let out a big sigh. He had so been looking forward to this and now all he wanted to do was go back to the hotel and drink until the world slipped away. Dammit. Story of his life.

* * *

To be continued...

Thanks for reading! Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

Misty's was surprisingly busy for a Thursday night. In fact, Dean would call it packed and he'd been in enough strip clubs to know. It wasn't natural somehow. He and Sam stood by the entrance, taking in the sounds, smells and sights. Dean was back to treating this like a job; get the lay of the land and find out where all the exits were. The music was loud and energetic, the bass throbbing through his chest. The club was a big open space with two long bars on side of the room. A large walkway with poles set at regular intervals dominated the middle of the room. It was currently filled with a handful of ladies in various states of dress. There were tables scattered between the walkway and the bars, all were full. There were long strings of soft purple and blue neon lights running down the walls, giving the room an almost ethereal glow. There were smaller pedestals in amongst the tables, all occupied with dancers working hard for their money. Toward the back of the main stage, there was a darkened alcove with the words "Private Dances" scrawled in blue neon above it. There was big no neck type standing outside. Nothing unusual for this type of establishment.

What was unusual was the faint hum of anticipatory energy making Dean's nerve endings stand at attention. He had been in two different types of these places; the rowdy fun type full of drunk and happy men just wanting to be men and the sad, lonely ones where there were no illusions of any kind. This one definitely felt like the former, but there was an undercurrent of desperation that wasn't typical. He could see it the eyes of the men sitting around their tables, fidgeting with their drinks, barely glancing at the women that might be in front of them, or even closer in some cases. In the shifting glances that moved constantly between the stage and the doorway that promised special attention in the back. The staff he saw had a slightly harassed, harried look about them as if having to take care of this many people at once was both completely unexpected and unappreciated. There was nothing normal about it at all other than the surface appearance.

Sam tapped his arm, drawing Dean out of his thoughts. When Dean met his eyes questioningly, Sam gestured over to the bar where there were two seats unoccupied. They weaved their way through the mass of men, strippers and waitresses to the stools. Sam could feel eyes on him and Dean, felt a hand pass over his chest as a woman walked by, her lipsticked mouth smiling suggestively up at him. It made him uncomfortable as hell. He wasn't quite sure where to look, feeling like a creeper when all his eyes seemed to land on was cleavage and ass. Dean, on the other hand, was clearly in his element, giving the "how you doin" nod to the ladies he passed. His brother's looks and big smile guaranteed him attention. There was already a blonde waiting by the bar, having mapped out their trajectory.

"Hi, I'm Tiffany," she said as they reached her, one hand reaching out to rest on Dean's arm. Tiffany wasn't really Tiffany, it was really Laura, but Tiffany sold better. She had seen them as soon as they came in, her eyes immediately drawn to their youth and height. The job was the job and looks didn't really matter, but it was so much more fun when they were hot. Things had been tight this month, she wanted to get her hooks in before someone else grabbed them. The taller one was already moving past her to the bar, so she concentrated her attentions solely on the green eyed one standing before her. It was no hardship, he was a looker.

"Hi Tiffany, I'm Dean," he said, his eyes and smile going into full on "get some" mode. Sam settled onto the stool, looking away to try and get the bartender's attention. Dean's eyes drifted over her straight and long blonde hair and tight body clad in barely there lingerie that was a screaming red. He could immediately feel Dean Jr. stir to life. It knew where it was and what it was there to do even if Dean Sr. wasn't playing. Dean would have definitely considered taking her for a spin if the situation was different. He had gotten lucky with strippers plenty of times and he had never paid for what they did after they got off work for the night. Got off in every way, he thought proudly.

"Mmm, like James Dean?" Tiffany asked, her voice lowering, big blue eyes widening. Dean knew she was angling to get him in for a private dance, but that wasn't really on the agenda anymore. The earlier episode with Sam had left him tense and irritable and the need to get out was stronger than anything else. He would play the game, use the looks his parents gave him and get this handled as efficiently as possible.

"That's right," he responded, roving his eyes over her appreciatively, no sign of his inner agitation showing through. "So Tiffany, how long have you been here?"

Tiffany moved in a bit closer to him, a finger coming up to run up and down his chest. She tossed her head back, tousling her hair, breasts pushed to their limits in the corset she was wearing on full display for him. The chest under her finger was firm and warm, but he actually flinched slightly when she first made contact, as if he didn't like to be touched. Not so strange really, most men weren't entirely comfortable until they had a few drinks in them. A guy this handsome didn't need to come to places like this, so maybe it was his first time.

"A couple of months. Just long enough to know exactly what I'm doing, but not so long I don't still love it," she answered with a smile.

He felt Sam nudge him and he looked down to see him offering him a shot. Flicking his eyes up to his brother, he saluted him briefly before taking it down. He saw that Sam was talking to the bartender. He shook his head in utter sadness. All these beautiful women around and Sam was talking to the male bartender. He knew Sam wasn't exactly having the best night, but checking out some amazing bodies had to help a little, right?

"Oh I have no doubt you know what you're doing," he said, turning back to Tiffany, leaning down to get a bit closer to her ear. "Any girls just show up in the last month? Girls that you really like and get along with?" he asked suggestively, trying to make her think he was angling for a threesome dance. He was hoping the potential for more money would smooth over the fact that he was trying to weed information out of her. It worked.

"Ooh, naughty boy," Tiffany giggled. Dean almost rolled his eyes, but managed to stuff it down. Why hadn't he noticed how annoying this kind of all was before? Oh right, he was sober, worried about Sam's melon and on the job, three of the biggest buzzkills there ever was. "Yeah, there's a few new girls. What's your preference?" she asked.

Right now, his preference existed in a bottle and maybe some extra alone time in the shower. Dean tried for his sexiest smile. "Well, besides you, who's the girl all the guys seem to want?"

A bit of a shadow crossed over her face then, a bit of the mask slipping. He had hit a nerve there. Competition was a bitch. Dean glanced over at Sam again, who was still in deep conversation with the bartender. The bartender was leaning very close to his brother and there was definitely a note of interest on his face. For just a moment, Dean considered butting in. His brother didn't need to get hit on by a guy tonight, he was having enough problems, but then he saw Sam laugh at something he said. Sam was working him just like Dean was working Tiffany, doing the job. It was a reminder to Dean to do the same and his gaze moved to rest on Tiffany once again.

"Well there's Sadie. She started probably three weeks ago, maybe four. I think she's supposed to be coming out here soon," Tiffany informed him, craning her neck to look at the stage. Not seeing the woman in question, she turned back to Dean. He could only describe the look in her eyes as bitter and jealous. "All the guys seem to want her." Her tone made it clear that he would too. "She doesn't really do one on one dances, though."

Dean became very interested in meeting Sadie at this point. A succubus could cause mass attraction, which would certainly explain the overall feeling in the club, but it was more of a distraction technique. It didn't have nearly the power as her one on one whammy, which gave her full mind control over the victim. To truly feed, she had to attract a single man in order to fully hypnotize and drain him, usually over the course of several days, but succubi been known to kill immediately for a quick fix. He would think that it would be in her best interest to do one on one dances so she could her thing, so that was high on the list of weird, but what the hell did he know? It could be that this Sadie was simply incredible looking and very good at what she did, but he definitely needed to get a look at her to be sure.

"Dean!" Sam called out to him. Dean smiled at Tiffany apologetically and turned to his brother. The bartender had moved on further down the bar, back to doing his job. "Bartender says that they have a new superstar in town, been getting a lot of attention," he revealed.

"Sadie, right?" Dean asked.

Sam glanced over his shoulder at the now pouting Tiffany. "Yeah, that's the one. Said she got here about four weeks ago, seems to have quite a following. He's never seen the place so crowded. He says she's only here for a month." He glanced at the blonde waiting more and more impatiently behind Dean, hoping she hadn't been able to hear him over the music. She didn't give any indication that she had.

It was sounding more and more like Sadie was their huckleberry. Dean sighed then turned back, throwing back on the charm in just those few seconds. Tiffany perked back up when saw his smile. She had been starting to think that this unbelievably handsome man, along with his money, was going to pass her up.

"Baby, I can't think of anything I'd like more than to get some private time with you, but I have a few things to take care of first. I want to be able to give you all my attention. Can I come find you in just a bit?" he asked, using his sexiest drawl. He saw doubt wavering on her face, but he maintained eye contact with her, trying to convince her that he was definitely interested. She smiled and nodded, then leaned in to whisper something that he didn't pay any attention to. Then she was gone, melting back into the crowd. Dean took the stool next to Sam's, picking up the shot that Sam had asked for before the bartender went on his way. As he swallowed it, he was reminded of what he had seen earlier.

"Milking the bartender, Sammy?" he smirked, setting his glass down and twisting the stool to face his brother.

Sam rolled his eyes, a tinge of red heating up his cheeks. "Hey, he started talking to me and I got the info we needed," he muttered. It was better than having to talk to the scantily clad woman that had cornered Dean after the vision he had earlier. That woman he had seen had been blonde too. He kept that to himself though. Dean would have a coronary if he knew that Sam was still having such a hard time with the memory and it would be right back to him dragging him out of the place like a pissed off wife coming in after her husband.

"And they say I'm the pretty one," Dean joked, smacking Sam on the back. He was going to continue to needle at his brother's discomfort when the music dimmed out and the lights above the main stage lit up. Tiffany had said that the woman in question was going to be hitting the stage soon so Dean gave the area his full attention. Sam followed his lead, twisting around in the stool.

"We know what you're waiting for," a husky female voice said over the loudspeakers. A hushed whisper seemed to work its way through the crowd, eyes turning almost all at once to the now empty stage. It was downright eerie.

Sam noticed that it was just a bit more effort to breathe, the air thick with something he couldn't describe. Looking over at Dean's profile, he observed that his brother was having the same trouble. In fact, everyone seemed to be, even the women. A haze slipped over his mind, dulling out his emotions, bringing other more dormant ones to the surface; desire, lust, want and need. It wasn't unpleasant. In fact, it was a little too pleasant. He had to shift a bit on the stool to accommodate a certain part of him coming to attention. Something was definitely happening and it had succubus written all over it.

"She's only here until tomorrow people. Get it while you can. Sadie!" the voice finished with a flourish.

Loud music started pouring through the room, the curtain at the back of the stage slowly moving open. A woman moved onto the platform, stalking down toward the front with the beat of the rock music, her eyes casting over the crowd. Dean roved his eyes over her, struggling to remember that he was there to kill a succubus, which was very likely her, and not admire the many desirable attributes presented by her barely there clothing. It wasn't easy. It would have been a challenge anyway, she was so his type, but the net she'd cast over the crowd was hard to concentrate through. All he could think about was wrapping that red hair up in his hands, touching that pale skin, making her lush mouth part in ecstasy, surrendering to her…

Dean clenched his hands up in tight fists, driving his nails into his palm. The pain helped to push away her spell and he was able to think clearly again. Her juice was a little stronger than he had anticipated. Dragging his eyes away from the vision dancing before him, he turned to his brother to see how he was faring. Sam had caught on quickly that it would be easy to go zombie like the rest of the crowd and he could see that Sam was pinching his arm, lips tight with exertion to fight the urge to fall into the sensation. The feeling was subtle enough not to overly alarm anyone who was anticipating getting turned on by a naked woman, but strong enough to make it almost impossible to look away, to think of anything else. He could feel it starting to worm back into his mind again, his eyes starting to turn back to the stage helplessly. They had to get out of there.

He tugged on Sam's arm urgently and indicated the front door with a jerk of his head when Sam looked his way. Sam's wide eyes showed his agreement and he followed Dean's movement, his fingers still twisting a tortured piece of skin on his arm. They weaved through the crowd, the people standing in their path barely reacting as they pushed past them. Dean could still feel the magic eating at him, a subtle but invasive little trickle of sensation that promised delights and pleasure beyond measure if only he would let it in. His rational mind knew he was safe from the mass hypnosis of a succubus, but he didn't want to take any chances that he was wrong.

Panic made them move quickly. It was getting harder and harder to fight the urge to relax into the magic weaving through the club. Just have a seat and enjoy the view, it called. Lunging for the door, Sam thrust it open, the brothers spilling out of it almost comically. The doorman outside jumped out of the way of the flailing limbs, pressing himself against the far wall. Sam turned his way with a placating hand raised, figuring they were both just moments from getting punched. He certainly had enough cause with all their antics. The bouncer was clearly done with them, starting to move toward them menacingly. He backed off when they kept moving.

They made their way back to the Impala, their jerky movements smoothing out, gasping breaths returning to normal. The sensations had faded quickly as the distance grew and the cool night air filled their lungs, but there were still some lingering effects, especially in their pants. Blue balls were a bitch. Sam leaned his hips against the trunk of the car, bent forward slightly, breathing deeply. Dean draped his arms on the roof of the car, resting his head on his forearms. Both the brothers just took a moment to get into their right minds, let the spell fully wear off.

"Well I guess we know who the succubus is," Dean muttered, his voice muffled.

Sam huffed out a laugh. "Yeah. Now what?"

Dean pulled up his head and turned so that his shoulders were against the car. He looked back at Sam. "She's got to come out sometime, right? We watch the exits and when she comes out we either gank her then or we follow her and gank her later."

Sam nodded, his brow furrowed in thought. "You know what I don't get?" he asked.

"Laid on a regular basis?" Dean grinned. That earned him rolled eyes as Sam turned to face him.

"What she did in there, it wouldn't get her the connection she needs with one victim. So why do it at all? Wouldn't it be easier to just wait for someone to get close to her and then put the mojo on him?" Sam turned more fully toward his brother.

Dean had to agree with Sam. Why the parlor trick when the payload was in dropping the force on one person? "I dunno. If we have time before we take her head, we can ask her. Right now, let's worry about making sure we get her before she picks the next poor sucker for her value meal." Glancing back over at the door to the club, he could see that the doorman was still keeping an eye on them. They weren't going to be able to sit there much longer. Dean could tell that he was moments away from confronting them, or worse, calling the cops. "We'll need to relocate. That beef bus by the door is paying just a bit too much attention to us and I don't think it's because he wants to buy us ice cream."

They both piled into the car and Dean started her up, smiling slightly in automatic response to her throaty growl. "We'll go up a block then come back on foot. You take the front, I'll circle around to see what we're dealing with in the back. If we're lucky it's just a side door. Phones out, these bitches are strong. Mano a mano not the smart option."

"You know what she looks like? I'm assuming she'll have clothes on so you won't be able to identify her with cleavage." Sam smirked.

"It'll be tough, but I think I managed to drag my eyes up long enough to get a decent look," Dean responded, grinning in return. "Long red hair, brown eyes, tall, pale, beautiful. Shouldn't be too hard to spot."

Dean parked the car on a side street and the brothers both moved to the trunk to load up. Succubi were technically demons, just not the typical hell demons, so flasks of holy water were loaded into pockets along with additional ammo. Guns were placed at the small of their backs. Dean had the demon killing knife. He wasn't sure if it would work on a succubus, but he was ready to find out. He had his larger knife as well in case they did have to go with the typical beheading. Sam also tucked a large knife into a sheath on his thigh. It was a bit obvious, but you couldn't exactly stuff that somewhere without risking serious injury. Dean tossed a questioning look Sam's way and at his nod, he shut the trunk. They were loaded for bear. Well succubus bear, but they were as ready as they were getting.

* * *

Sam watched Dean move quickly across the street to disappear down a dark alley. Taking note of which way his older brother went, he started back toward the club. He was planning to make his way to the parking lot to find a spot to wait that was in full view of the door. The nearly full lot would give him more than ample cover from the doorman. He slipped down an alley so that he could approach the lot from the back. His long legs covered ground quickly and he was once again across from the club. Weaving in between cars, he chose a minivan to hunker down behind. Peering out, he could clearly see the entrance. He settled down, phone in hand, ready for a long wait.

His phone buzzed only five minutes later. He flashed it on to see a text from Dean. '_Only one door in alley. Some crazy shit going on back here. I feel dirty just standing here. Dirty and wishing I had fifty bucks to spare. The mouth on this girl!' _Sam smiled and shook his head. He quickly typed back '_How are you not dead from an STD? Stay out of trouble and her mouth. We have work to do.'_ Less than a minute later he had his response. _"Whatever Samantha."_ Sam laughed quietly, folding the phone back up in his hand. He watched a few men leave, checking to make sure they weren't coming his way. He settled back against the fender, glancing at his watch. The club was open for another four hours. It's a good thing he wore his coat, the wind was picking up, bringing the temperature down below comfortable.

With nothing better to do, it was inevitable that his mind would return back to the forbidden; the memory. He tried to fight it, tried to just accept it for what it was, but as with most things, the more you try not to think about it, the more it sat right there, jumping just behind your eyes. It terrified him to poke around at it and take the risk, but the thought that he had attacked someone was too much for him to handle. There had to be a reason for it. Even without a soul he wouldn't…rape someone, would he? It was hard to even think the word. That's what it had looked like in that brief flash on memory. Dean hadn't said much, but he had said enough that Sam knew he didn't exactly have morals during that time. Maybe he could trigger a bit more if he just concentrated enough, just some more flashes that might give him more context, help him understand what had been happening. That had to be better than thinking he was a rapist, or worse, right?

Dean was so going to kick his ass.

He tried to recreate the scene from the brief recollection he'd had. He couldn't be sure where he was at the time, it had been dimly lit. He was pretty sure he'd been sitting on a chair. He remembered the outlines of a bed over the girl's arm. Motel room, he had been in a motel room. The woman was young and very pretty with blonde hair and blue eyes. She had been on his lap, topless. Apparently she hadn't minded if he touched her, he remembered the feel of his hands on her ass. Her mouth had been hovering over his, her crotch grinding against his in time to the music playing from some cheap boombox judging from the sound quality. She had called him "Big Boy". Was he alone? Something was niggling at him.

When the memory hit, it was like being plunged over a waterfall; quick, sudden, terrifying and all consuming.

_Samuel was sitting across from him in another chair, peering impatiently at the scene carrying out before him. His eyes skipped away when he met Sam's gaze, embarrassed and uncomfortable. Sam just lifted a corner of his mouth in a derisive smile and turned his attention back to the woman straddling his lap. She was smiling down at him, rubbing her breasts into his chest while her hips writhed over his. He was hard, but it was just his body's reaction. He wasn't at all interested. _

_Her hands wrapped around his neck and jaw, her lips ghosting over his. Sam jerked back slightly. He didn't want her mouth anywhere near him. He knew what she was. She got the hint and moved back, her hands resting against the hard planes of his chest. Sam tilted his head slightly to once again put Samuel in his view beside her arm. His grandfather had a hand inside his coat and he was staring Sam down with hard eyes, asking the question. Sam nodded and moved his hands to her waist. His grip tightened. The dancer above him stiffened in response, eyes widening in alarm. He wasn't being gentle, he knew she was no shrinking flower._

"_Getting a little rough there, Big Boy." She pushed at his hands, all other movement stopped. She was strong, very strong, but Sam had leverage. He wrapped a hand around her throat and bent forward so that she was spilling off his lap to the floor. Without hesitation, he followed her down, covering her body with his, holding her hands across her chest. She could easily lift him off, but she couldn't get her limbs under her properly. He had to be more than a foot taller than her. _

_Samuel loomed over them, his knife out, gleaming dully in the darkness. Her eyes rolled up to him in panic, one arm flying free to punch and claw at him. Her legs joined the struggle, pushing and kicking at Sam. A knee cracked into his ribs, likely breaking one or two, sharp nails gouged across his bicep. Sam ignored the pain and tightened his grip, lowering more of his body onto her to help hold her in place. He could feel the bones in her wrist cracking from his hold, but it didn't seem to bother her at all._

"_No,no,no,no,no," she pleaded, twisting her body in every attempt to free herself._

"_You know what you are. You knew this day was coming," Samuel said flatly. She didn't respond, but a gleam of hate shined out of her blue eyes._

_As Sam's blood leaked down his arm, she gave up all pretense at being an innocent girl as the smell hit her. Her second set of teeth came down and she snapped up into his face. Sam reared up to keep out of range of those teeth and took the opportunity to recapture the arm that had gotten free, shoving it out to the side. They had already known what she was, but Samuel demanded proof. Well now he had it._

"_Now Samuel!" he barked harshly, sweat streaking down his face from the exertion._

_He saw the older man drop down to his knees, the knife held above his head. With a grunt, he slammed it down into her neck. She let out a sound between a screech and a gurgle as it sunk into half of her neck. Amazingly, she was still fighting, still trying to buck Sam off. Her struggles managed to knock Samuel's hands away from the handle of the knife, leaving it embedded in her neck. Sam grimaced in irritation, then released her arms to put one hand on the handle of the knife and the other on the flat side of the blade. Using all his weight and strength, he leaned forward, completing what Samuel had started. It wasn't quick and it certainly wasn't merciful, but she was a vampire. He couldn't care less. Her head finally rolled free in a gout of blood, a fine spray coating his arms and face. Sam fell forward as she went limp and he caught himself quickly before he landed face first into her gushing neck. With a swift roll, he was off of the body and on his feet. Samuel reclaimed his knife._

_Both men stood staring down at the vampire, chests heaving. Samuel glanced up at Sam, noting the blood dripping down his arm. "You all right?" he asked, indicating the wound with the bloody knife. _

_Sam didn't even look at the wound. "It's a scratch. Go get the van, I'll bring it out." Samuel nodded, striding out of the room. _

_Stripping the comforter off the bed, he rolled the body into it, setting the head at its feet. He was getting ready to lift it when he heard a noise in the bathroom. Immediately on alert, he took his gun in hand, and headed towards the closed door. He stopped and listened for a moment. The sound of breathing and the rustling of clothes reached his well trained ears. Bracing himself, he kicked in the door, gun held in front of him, ready to swiss cheese whatever moved. _

_There was a young man inside, huddled against the bathtub. His clothes were torn and bloody, his bare feet peeking out from under his knees. He raised his hands to shield his face, cringing away from the light spilling into the dark room. Sam noted the bite on his neck, blood coating his shirt. _

"_Is she dead?" a trembling voice asked._

"_Yes. Were you turned?" Sam asked calmly, casting his eyes around the room for any additional surprises._

"_What? I don't understand…Please, I've been here so long, I'm so tired. Please help me." He dropped his arms with that plea, one hand reaching out to Sam. He couldn't have been more than twenty, just a kid. There was blood on his mouth. It could have been his, but chances are it wasn't. _

"_I'll help you," Sam said, moving into the room._

_The man sank down onto himself, crying softly. "Thank you, thank you," he whispered brokenly._

_He didn't see Sam take out his machete, he only knew that something wasn't right when he was lifted slightly, his shoulders shoved over the edge of the bathtub. The last thing he saw were the empty eyes of what he thought was going to be his savior before the machete came down and sent him into nothing._

_Sam turned sharply at the sound of someone behind him, releasing the body, knife held up threateningly. It was just Samuel. He relaxed, wiping the blade down on a towel. Moving inside to look inside the bathtub, Samuel looked down at the head in horror._

"_What the hell did you do?" he rasped out glaring over at Sam. "He's one of the kids that was taken by the nest! We were supposed to save him!"_

_Sam shrugged, looking at the older man calmly. "He'd probably been turned."_

"_Probably?" Samuel spat. He grabbed Sam's arm to turn the younger man to face him. Sam stilled. He stared down at the hand gripping his arm, then back up at Samuel. There was enough threat in that gaze that Samuel backed off hastily. "There's tests we could have done. You didn't know for sure." He was clearly disconcerted by the actions of the younger man, but he was just frightened enough of him to not push too far._

_Sighing, already weary of the conversation, Sam moved to the sink to wash his hands and face. Once he was done, he wiped off on a clean towel, tucking it into his coat. He didn't want to leave any more evidence than he needed to. He turned back to his grandfather who was still looking at him with equal parts anger and fear._

"_They had him for a week. They have been building their ranks. Of course they turned him. It wasn't worth the risk of having one or both of us getting attacked because you wanted to take the time to check him just to confirm what we already know. I did what needed to be done. Now I'm finished explaining myself. We're done here." Sam didn't wait for a reply. He gathered up the body and dragged it into the next room. He unwrapped the other body and dropped this one on top. He rolled them both into the comforter._

_He hefted up one end, feeling the sharp grind of his ribs. Definitely broke a couple, he would have to wrap them when he had time. Samuel had followed him out of the bathroom, mouth pursed tightly in disapproval, but he took up the other end without hesitation. They carried the bodies out and tossed them into the back of the van. Samuel slammed the doors shut, then looked over at Sam._

"_You may be my grandson, but you are one cold son of a bitch," he commented._

"_I'm practical. There's a difference." Sam moved past him to get in the passenger seat._

_Samuel watched him go, eyes worried. "I wish that's all it was."_

When Sam came back to the present, he was on his knees, head pressed against the side of the minivan. He looked around wildly, forgetting where he was for just a moment. It came back to him quickly. He noted that there were less cars in the lot and his alarm flared sharply when he realized that more time had passed than he would have thought possible. He noticed his phone lying on the ground, the little light indicating that he had a message.

"Shit!" he cursed, snatching it up.

Flashing it on, he could see that there was a message from Dean. With relief, he noted that it had just come in. The new message alert must have pulled him out of the memory._ 'Shes here alone following get 2 alley'_. Dean had obviously not been able to waste time on punctuation and proper grammar. Sam was already on his feet, running towards the alley.

His mind churned over what he had seen. He knew that he didn't have time to really evaluate it right now, he needed to get his head in the hunt, but there were some glaring pieces of information that demanded to be dealt with now. He had been hunting with his grandfather? His very dead grandfather? What the fuck? And how could he have killed that boy without even making sure it was necessary? He could remember his emotions during that little scene, or rather the lack of them. There was no concern, worry, remorse, pain…anything that remotely resembled anything that could be called human. There was only an eerie calm, a sense of practicality. He could imagine that an animal would think like that. Kill or be killed. Him or me. Do or die. It felt so simple then, so clean. Now it just felt wrong and gut deep awful.

All the emotions he hadn't felt then were hitting him hard now. At the very forefront was horror. If he had done that, killed a potentially innocent person, what else had he done? He knew he had just opened his own Pandora's box and he also knew that it was going to seriously fuck up his life. There was no turning back now.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N - Thank you so much to all that have read this so far, especially those that have reviewed and are following. I really appreciate it and hope you are enjoying the story!

Disclaimer - I wish I did, but I don't own any piece of Supernatural. I'm just playing with them, I'll put them back where I found them.

* * *

Glancing down at his watch again, Dean sighed, bumping his head against the pitted brick of the building he was leaning up against. It was already two am and there was still no sign of their prey. He checked his phone again, knowing he hadn't missed a message, but it gave him something to do. He had seen people leave, obviously employees, as the ladies were still heavily made up. Each time a man would come out with them, a big bruiser with a mean gleam in his eye. He had spotted Dean initially and made it clear he was not welcome to stay where he was, so Dean moved out of sight, huddled behind a dumpster. It reeked, it was cold and he was getting hungry. All in all, he was not having the best night. At a strip club and he was sitting outside next to the garbage. Good times.

The door opened again and Dean leaned slightly forward so that he had good view of who was leaving. It was a woman, the light outside the door shining on her red hair. She turned his way briefly, her features illuminated clearly before she started heading up the alley towards the parking lot. Dean noted that the security man had not followed her out. He flipped open his phone and quickly sent Sam a message to let him know where she was headed and to have him meet him. He pulled his Colt out from the small of his back, keeping it carefully concealed against his thigh as he started to follow her, his steps measured and silent.

She didn't give any indication that she knew she was being trailed, her gaze straight ahead. He wasn't surprised she had declined the escort. It wasn't as if she was vulnerable to the typical type of attack. He was surprised to see her alone as had expected victim number four to be with her. Dean couldn't help but notice the curves of her ass in her tight jeans, long legs swallowed by black boots. It was nice packaging for a monster. There was no harm in appreciating her form while he was back here, it wouldn't stop him from killing her.

They were nearing the head of the alley and he anticipated that she would head towards the parking lot, but she turned left. He pressed into the shadows by the wall, watching her carefully. Her eyes didn't flick his way. Once she was out of sight, he moved forward quickly, glancing around the mouth of the alley. He saw Sam on the opposite side of the road, casually standing on the corner, talking on his cell. Dean knew the play. He had seen her as well and couldn't get to cover quickly enough. It was perfectly normal to see a guy outside a strip club talking on his phone, nothing to raise suspicion. Probably just a wife or girlfriend upset that he was out so late, right? Sam caught his gaze briefly and gave an infinitesimal nod in acknowledgement of the hand motion Dean gave him telling him to follow.

Sam turned to trail her on the other side of the road, still pretending to hold a conversation on his phone. Dean appreciated the naturalness of his movements and for a moment, wondered if he really was on the phone. He was gesturing wildly with one hand and turned to pace the other way for a moment before turning back around. He glanced back over at Dean and nodded, giving him the signal that she was far enough ahead to not see Dean when he came around the corner. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, the gun still clenched in his right hand, he started after her. She was almost to the next block.

The brothers followed her carefully, not too close, but not so far back that they could lose her. She never turned around, only moved quickly and quietly down the empty sidewalk to her unknown destination. She turned down another side street and Dean saw Sam continue on past the street to double back later. Even though she had given no indication of noticing that they were there, it was better not to take any risk. Her senses were better than theirs; she could be drawing them in, waiting for the best time to make her move.

Dean hurled himself quickly into a recessed doorway when he saw her stop. He glanced over to check Sam's position and didn't see him, so figured he had gotten out of sight quickly. They needn't have bothered. She was only pausing to jog up the stairs of the building in front of her. She went inside without looking around. It was an ordinary one story concrete building. It didn't look like a place where people lived, it was dark and in a state of neglect. A place people would actively avoid. Perfect succubus habitation.

He saw Sam jogging towards him on his side of the street and stepped out of the alcove. "What do you think? Front door?" he asked Dean, glancing at the darkened windows. Sam's question didn't process right away. Dean was too occupied studying his brother. From across the road, Sam had appeared focused and smooth, fully on the job. Up close, however, there was still the undercurrent of tension and unsteadiness in his eyes that couldn't be explained by the hunt. He was left wondering if it was lingering from the earlier incident or if there was something else.

"You okay, Sammy?" When he saw Sam flinch, he knew he shouldn't have asked, but he wanted to be sure. He took Sam's nod at face value, message received. Sammy wasn't okay, but he was as good as he was getting for the moment. Clearly his brother was trying to maintain a strong façade and he wasn't helping by pointing out the fail. Dean made a mental note to probe some more as soon as this was wrapped up, then got his brain back in the job.

It didn't appear that she would be expecting them, but it would be dangerous not to take precautions. Dean was thinking that this was just a little too easy. He didn't for one second believe that she didn't know she was being followed. What kind of monster wasn't aware of what was on their six? One coming in the front and one the back would be the smart option, but he didn't want to split them anymore. He wasn't entirely comfortably leaving Sam on his own in any situation, and while his little brother was making all the right moves, he was still worried about the strain on him from the earlier episode. So he took the next best option.

"Yeah, I think that's a good plan. Stay here and keep an eye on the door. I'll swing around to see if there's a back entrance and do what I can remove it as an option." At Sam's nod, Dean took off around the block to find the back of the building.

Sam leaned up against the wall, careful to keep the door in sight, but to stay out of the line of the windows. The street lights were just enough to illuminate the sides of the building, but left the doorway dark. He exhaled a long breath, wishing he could get the tightness in his chest to go with it. So he wasn't holding it together as much as he thought. He had been hoping that he had managed to stuff the worry down far enough that it wouldn't show, but he should have known better. Dean knew his face better than anyone else. There was no doubt in his mind that he was going to have to do some serious talking when they finished this up, but he was actually looking forward to it. Yes, Dean would be furious that he was actively trying to recall lost memories, but he was hoping his big brother could shed some light.

Hearing footfalls, Sam turned to see Dean loping back towards him. "Back door is out of commission," Dean said with a grin.

They both approached the landing of the entrance carefully. There were no windows around the door to give away their approach, but it also meant they couldn't see inside. Dean did a quick sweep of the street to make sure no one was around to see them, then tried the knob. Not surprisingly, it was locked. He made quick work of that with his lock pick kit. He met eyes with Sam and counted down to three silently. He thrust the door open and moved swiftly inside, gun held ready before him. Sam slipped in, facing the other way, gun tracking his eye as they swept across the darkened room.

It appeared to be an abandoned warehouse, the sparse illumination from the street lights outside resting on dusty shelves and discarded boxes. It was a big open room and it appeared to be empty. Dean was reaching for his flashlight when an overhead light flashed on close to them, forcing them to cringe as the brightness attacked their eyes.

"I was wondering how long you were going to wait to make your move."

She was sitting on a stool by the wall, boot heels hooked into a rung. Her jacket had been discarded on a table nearby. A small smile curved her lips. She didn't appear to have a weapon of any sort, but then she didn't really need one. The brothers moved steadily toward her, guns trained on her head. The bullets wouldn't kill her, but it would certainly slow her down. She held up her hands in the universal sign of "I'm innocent, please don't shoot", but she didn't look worried in the slightest.

"You know why we're here, right? So can the harmless act," Dean gritted out.

She looked at him for a long moment, then shrugged, her hands dropping down to her lap. "Fine, but I'm not what you think I am." She paused, eyes tilted up in a thoughtful look. "Well, I am, but I'm not the one you're after."

"Succubi don't share territory," Sam inserted. It was bad for business to have two working the same beat. People would eventually catch on and hunters would come your way. It never happened, at least not for long. One would kill the other.

"This isn't exactly my territory. I don't live here, I'm passing through," she explained.

Dean was done with the foreplay. It had been a long night and he wanted to get back to the motel and crash. "Listen up, bitch, we're not interested in your lies. If it quacks like a duck, it's a succubus."

Her head fell back in an exasperated sigh. She looked back at them with sad eyes. "Look boys, I really don't want to hurt you. Please don't make me," she pleaded quietly.

Well that was a first. The baddies were usually more than willing to hurt them. Thrilled to hurt them. Sam glanced over at Dean, brow furrowed in question. Dean just shrugged and gave him his "I don't know what the hell's going on any more than you do" face. They both looked back at her. She hadn't moved, was leaving it up to them. Dean decided.

"Maybe you don't, but you're dropping bodies all over the country. We gotta put you down," Dean stated, already lining up his shot. Right in the forehead, between her beautiful brown eyes. It wouldn't kill her, but it would hopefully give him time to try out the demon killing knife or to take her head with the machete.

Those same eyes darkened in resignation. "Remember that this was your choice, not mine."

Their guns fired almost simultaneously, but she moved almost too fast to see, spinning to the side of the stool. Her movement caused Dean's shot to miss, but Sam had been aiming lower. Blood spurted on the wall behind her as it connected below her shoulder. She picked up the stool and launched it towards them. Dean and Sam dashed away, but it managed to smack into Dean's chest, flinging him to the floor. His back slammed against the concrete, knocking what little breath the stool had left him right out of his lungs. He heard Sam call out his name and raised a hand in acknowledgement. Talking wasn't on the menu right now. Several of his ribs were screaming bloody murder, but that was nothing new. What was that thing made out of, lead? He scrambled to his feet, looking around for Sam. He didn't have to look far, Sam was holding out a hand to help him up and he took it gratefully.

"You okay?" Sam asked, his eyes running over his brother in concern.

Dean nodded, hunched over, still trying to get his breath back. "Where is she?" he gasped out. He looked up to see Sam's eyes fixed firmly into the back of the building. Dean followed his gaze, seeing a shape moving against the darkness.

"She's running," Sam stated in wonderment. He had tracked her movements across the floor, a lighter shade of black against the darkness. He could see that she was heading toward what he figured was the back door, a pale gleam of light around the edges. Why was she running? She could have taken him out when Dean was on the floor, but she just bolted as soon as he went down. Nothing was making sense here.

"Man, this is so not like the last succubus hunt." Dean was unknowingly echoing Sam's thoughts. "That one was trying to tear us apart or fuck us to death in equal measure. What is this, a hippy succubus?" He was thoroughly confused by her actions. She seemed to have no problem killing people, bodies followed her like toilet paper on a sticky shoe, so why was she so unwilling to kill them? Not the time to ponder.

Giving Sam the "I'm good" nod, they pushed forward, Dean holding his left arm a little tighter against his side to support his aching ribs. He didn't like to telegraph an injury, but he didn't want to end up with a filleted lung either. Lesser evil and all.

"Not getting out that way. Come on sweetheart, let's just get this over with, huh?" Dean called out, focused on the vague shape of her against the door. He gingerly pulled out the demon killing knife, shoving his gun back into his waistband. She didn't even seem to notice the bullet Sam put in her, so there wasn't much point having it out.

She stopped shoving at the door abruptly. They heard a short bitter laugh echo through the empty air. She turned back to face them, eyeing the knife in Dean's hand. The bullets weren't really an issue, but the knife, while small, could eventually cut through a neck. He was itching to show her.

She launched at them, deciding that Dean was the greater threat. Grabbing him around the collar, she braced to throw him, but Sam was behind her, wrapping those long arms around her, jerking her back and breaking her hold on Dean. Dean slashed out, the knife connecting with her upper chest and she cried out as the familiar glow poured out. Yes, it would work on succubi, good to know.

There was panic in her face now, panic and desperation. Dean moved to plant the knife more firmly in her for a killing blow. Using Sam's hold on her, she lifted her legs to push Dean away, catching him right in his already sore chest. He flew back, crashing into a metal shelving unit. He grunted as he landed against the unforgiving metal, the ridges cutting sharply into his skin. It toppled over, taking Dean with it. The impact of it hitting the ground slammed his head back into the edge of a shelf. For a moment all he saw was white, felt nothing. Then pain exploded behind his eyes, a gasp tearing out of his throat. He fought against the swirling pain that was turning everything a spotty black. He tried to get his body to move, to get back to Sam, but it just wasn't listening.

"Sammy," he called out, his voice weak and trembling, and he grimaced at the sound. What a girl. He heard Sam respond, but couldn't make out the words. It was like he was hearing him from underwater. He forced his eyes open, then squeezed them shut again when the agony triplicated in his head, a low moan leaving his lips. He tried to rise off the hard edges of the shelf, but fell back as excruciating pain stabbed at his chest. Bile rose into the back of his throat as his stomach heaved. He turned his head to the side in panic, not wanting to pull a Hendrix. It felt like the top of his skull was sliding off. It was too much pain for him to fight on will alone and his body was done waiting for him to give it up. He was falling into blackness, his last thought of Sam alone with the succubus.

* * *

Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear what you think, so please review or drop me a message if you'd like.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N - Thanks again to all that have read this so far, especially those that have reviewed and are following. I really appreciate it and hope you are enjoying the story!

Disclaimer - I wish I did, but I don't own any piece of Supernatural. I'm just playing with them, I'll put them back where I found them.

* * *

Sam lost sight of his brother when both he and the succubus tumbled to the ground, the impact of her legs hitting Dean sending them reeling until Sam lost his footing. They landed with him on his back, the succubus on the upper half of his body. By some miracle, he was able to maintain his hold on her, despite the struggles of the woman resting on top of him. Her head bashed down against his chest, forcing a grunt out of his mouth, but the discomfort was forgotten when Sam heard Dean call his name, the small sound filling his insides with ice. Dean shouldn't sound like that, ever, so broken and hurt.

"Dean, hang on!" he shouted.

He barely noticed that she had stilled at the sound of his brother's voice, no longer trying to break his hold. Sam craned his head around her shoulder to get a glimpse of what happened to his brother, blowing out air forcefully to get her hair out of his face so he could see clearly. Dean was lying on the overturned shelf, making feeble and unsuccessful attempts to move. Sam's panic skyrocketed. If Dean wasn't getting up right away, then that meant he was really hurt. He had heard the awful sound his older brother's head had made when it hit the shelf, so he suspected severe concussion at the very least, skull fracture or brain damage the biggest fears. Dean's head rolled limply to the side, his body relaxing into an uncomfortable position on the shelf. Sam screamed for Dean to stay awake, to come back, but he wasn't responding. He needed to get to him. Now.

"Sam? Dean? Winchester?"

Sam was going through his best options to take care of the succubus so he could attend to his brother. He couldn't risk releasing her and having her attack them both. It wouldn't take much to finish Dean off. He could fill her legs with bullets to keep her down and then use the machete on her head, but that would require releasing her and he didn't think she was just going to stay still while he aimed the gun that was still clenched in his hand. Just because she wasn't moving now, didn't mean it would stay that way if he attacked her. If he could get them flipped over so he could control….wait, what? What had she said?

"What did you just say?" he rasped, his breathing still labored from the less than gentle impact on the ground followed up by her hard head hitting his sternum. He was sure he hadn't heard what he thought she said.

"Are you Sam and Dean Winchester? John's boys?" she clarified. So he had heard it correctly, didn't mean it made any more sense.

"You sure you want to know our name?" he responded, his voice coming out low and dangerous.

With a move he couldn't have described with a gun held to his head, she pushed and wiggled out of his hold in a swift movement, crouching beside him. He didn't even have time to think of trying to stop her. She was fast. He did raise his gun to her head, but didn't fire. Knowledge of their name didn't mean anything. They had killed enough things and pissed enough people off that they were well known in the monster world, but coupling that with her initial reticence to hurt them made him curious and with his brother lying unconscious made him a little more willing to listen than normal.

"I knew your Dad." She eyed the gun carefully, then looked over at Dean. "Look, I'm really not the problem here, all evidence to the contrary. Your brother needs help. Let's take care of that and we can talk, okay?" Sam's aim didn't waver. "You can keep the gun on me the whole time, that's fine," she offered. He still didn't move. She sighed deeply. "He's in trouble. I didn't mean to hurt him like that, I really didn't, that knife just freaked me out a lot and I didn't pull my punch, so to speak. I can help him, I really can."

"How are you going to help him?" Sam asked suspiciously, starting to rise up from the ground. She didn't move to intercept, so he rose to his feet.

"Can I stand?" she asked. He nodded shortly. Her movements were slow and unhurried, making sure that every step she took was deliberate and obvious. It was clear that she really wanted to avoid spooking him. Sam moved so that he was between her and his brother. "I need to take a look at him and I'll fix what I can."

"You aren't touching him until I understand exactly what that means." Sam wasn't too sure what was happening and why he was even listening to her, but his curiosity was definitely piqued. He was getting the impression that her "help" involved more than just the patch up job Sam would do.

"I totally understand. We don't have time for all the details, but I can do some basic healing. It's an ability I have. It will involve me touching your brother, but I promise I will not hurt him," she explained, her eyes jumping back and forth from his to his brother. She actually looked genuinely concerned, which was far beyond his level of comprehension. To quote his brother, "What the fuck?".

Sam weighed it out carefully, knowing he had to make a decision quickly. The thought of trusting her was out of the question. While it was true that she could have taken them out and had chosen not to, it didn't change the fact that she did admit to being a succubus. If she could help Dean, and that was a big if as he had never heard of a succubus being able to heal someone before, then it would behoove him to let her try. Dean was still out, he hadn't even moved. Head injuries coupled with unconsciousness didn't always mean hospital, but with the type of hit his head took, this likely wasn't going to be something that Sam could take care of.

He could try to call Cas, but the angel had made it clear he had his own fight to attend to and it was at great cost to himself and his people to step away. Who knew when they might really need his help and if they called him down for the little things, he might stop coming at all, a little "Boy Who Cried Wolf" lesson. With all the trouble the Winchesters got into, that wasn't even worth thinking about. If she could help Dean, maybe it would be best not to bother Cas about it.

He knew the demon knife hurt her. He would get it back and one bad move, he would kill her. She had a sense of self preservation, she cared about her life, so he was hoping that the threat of taking it from her would be enough to keep the shenanigans to a minimum. He just had to remember that she was fast and that he couldn't hesitate if she did something he didn't like. He made his decision.

"Okay, but I'm going to hold the knife on you. I will tell you now, if you do anything that even makes me think you are going to hurt him, I will kill you. Are we clear?" Sam stared her down, watching her face carefully. There was nothing there but sincerity and worry. Maybe even a little guilt. It was all too strange and it was seriously giving him a headache.

"As glass," she responded, already starting to move towards Dean. Sam whirled around to get there first, grabbing at the demon knife that had fallen from Dean's hand. "I'm Sadie, by the way," she added, throwing a small smile his way. Sam didn't return it and since she already seemed to know his name, he didn't respond. She just shrugged and knelt down by Dean. Sam was right beside her, the knife held firmly against her spine as he looked down at his brother.

Dean was pale, his skin cold and clammy. His breathing was ragged and uneven. Sadie reached out towards his face and Sam quickly grabbed her by the wrist, stopping her from making contact. She looked over at him, mouth turned down in impatience. When she saw the depth of concern in Sam's eyes, she softened.

"I told you I would have to touch him. I'm just going to make sure he doesn't have any injuries that would get worse if we get him off this thing, okay?" she asked, her voice calm and low like she was talking to an injured animal that might attack at any moment. She wasn't far off.

"You tell me step by step what you're doing. It will help us prevent any misunderstandings," he ordered, releasing her wrist.

She nodded, then turned back to Dean. This time when she went to touch him, Sam let her, but he tensed in anxious awareness, ready to plunge the knife in somewhere extra painful if she hurt Dean. Her hand rested gently on Dean's forehead, her eyes drifting closed. Sam could feel something emanating from her, not unlike what he had experienced in the club, but a more subdued version. He didn't feel the pull of her in the same way. In the club, it had been all take; she was taking the lust, the desire, the need. This was more like being on the receiving end of all that heat and it felt good. If that's what she was going to use to help Dean, then maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

"You can put him on the ground," Sadie advised softly, her eyes still closed. She did take her hand away and took a step back to give Sam room to work. She had clearly ascertained that Sam wouldn't want her help.

It was awkward maneuvering around the shelf, but he was able to gather his brother up his arms. Sam felt the clench in his gut as Dean's limbs fell limply, his head lolling against Sam's chest. He could see blood on his arm where he had first cradled Dean's head before shifting him to get a more secure hold and his anxiety escalated. He laid him down carefully, then quickly took off his jacket to bundle it up under Dean's head. His fingers felt around the back of his brother's head, feeling a long lump with a bloody gash. He checked Dean's pulse, alarmed at how weak and thready it was. Lifting his eyelids, he saw that the pupils were both different sizes. He was definitely looking at a concussion, likely very severe. It was also possible he had cracked his skull. Sam didn't like the way that lump had felt.

Sadie kneeled beside them again and Sam shifted around so that he could place the knife against her side. She looked like she was about to protest, but one glance into Sam's eyes made it clear that it would not do any good. "Okay, so now I'm going to kiss him," she stated, already leaning forward. Sam grabbed her shoulder tightly, pulling her back. Nothing good ever came from a succubus' kiss. She didn't resist his hold, merely resumed her position beside him, eyes on his expectantly.

"Last time I checked, a kiss isn't just a kiss with your kind," he bit out.

"Yes, I could drain him that way if I wanted to, which I don't, but it's the easiest way for me to get my energy into him. If that doesn't do the trick, then we'll need to try for more skin to skin contact, but we'll start at the kiss," she explained. Sam wasn't convinced. Another weary sigh left her lips. "Look, I'm a succubus, every bit of power I have is driven by sex. I can only share it the same way. Now I'm not talking penetration here, I'm talking PG-13 kiss." Sam's grasp didn't lessen while he struggled with the options presented to him and the fact that he was trusting a demon to do something good, an action that never worked out in his favor. Impatience flooded her features as she jerked away from him. He immediately tensed to use the knife and she threw up her hands in defense.

"We're running out of time Sam! He'll be gone before we can get him to a hospital. I've had a hundred chances to kill you tonight and I haven't. I could snap your neck right now. I could raise your lust and make it so you can't think of anything but touching my body. But I'm not doing any of those things. Can you just give me a little room here? I'm not asking you to trust me, I'm asking you to trust yourself. You're a logical guy. Weigh it out." She had abandoned the harmless and calm approach. This no nonsense, take no shit attitude suited her better and he was guessing this was closer to the real Sadie.

Sam hesitated just a moment, trusting himself was a serious issue for him. He had made some dubious decisions in the past that had rocked his confidence in his ability to judge a situation correctly. He briefly thought about what Dean would do if their positions were reversed. He didn't think Dean would have let her off the floor, he would have found a way to take her out, but it wasn't Dean left with this decision. It was Sam. He took her suggestion; he weighed it out. She had only hurt them when they hurt her. She had actually begged them to walk away. When she had one of them down, she took off, choosing escape over finishing it. She appeared upset about Dean's condition. She claimed to know their father. As soon as she realized who they were, she offered to help. He could get Dean to the hospital, but Dean despised hospitals and he was concerned that there wasn't time to get him there before…

He decided to trust himself. He decided to trust her.

"Do it," he ground out, trying to stuff down the doubt already rising back up inside of him.

She wasted no time, immediately kneeling back over Dean. Sam followed her every movement, hoping and praying he had made the right decision. Her hair fell around their faces in a brilliant red curtain, the darkness of the warehouse not even enough to dull the color. Her hands curved around his face, turning it ever so slightly towards her. When she pressed her lips to his brother's, Sam's breath halted in his throat. It was make or break time. If he messed up again, if he chose wrong, then Dean was dead. It took all he had not to pull her off Dean when he felt the tendrils of her power wrap around him again, full of heat and life, but he didn't. He watched her carefully, saw her part Dean's lips to deepen the kiss. Dean's body stiffened slightly and Sam shot forward, his hand resting on his leg. Sadie held out a hand to him and gave him the "OK" sign with her fingers. Closer to Dean, he could feel that energy more strongly, felt it buzzing around his skin, like it was searching for something. Sam leaned back. He didn't want to interfere with what she was doing and since he had gotten a small dose and wasn't any worse off for it, he didn't think she was hurting Dean.

The kiss lasted several minutes, Sadie only breaking contact to allow for breaths. Sam noticed that Dean's chest was rising and falling more rhythmically, his arms and legs twitching slightly as if he were coming to. One of Sadie's hands had drifted down to Dean's chest, the other wrapping around to the back of his head, supporting him as she raised him slightly off the ground. Sam drummed his fingers impatiently against his thigh. The waiting was killing him. He wanted to see his brother's eyes open, he wanted to hear him speak. He needed to know that Dean was going to be okay.

This time when Sadie raised up to take a breath, she leaned all the way back, eyes still resting on Dean. Sam looked at her waiting to see if she was going to do more, then down at Dean when she didn't move. Color was back in Dean's cheeks, his breathing deep and even. He wasn't awake, but there were clear signs that he was better. There was no more power emanating from Sadie.

"Why isn't he awake?" he asked anxiously. He had expected that Dean would have bounded up, completely healed like when Cas did it.

Sadie smiled softly. "I said I could do basic healing. I can't fix everything. The worst of the damage is repaired. He's just sleeping it off now." She sounded weak, drained. Sam looked at her more closely and noted that for every bit of color Dean had regained, she had lost. The wound on her chest had been starting to heal, now it was bleeding freely again. The bullet wound in her shoulder didn't look much better. He had barely noticed it before, it must have healed up very quickly. She made to stand, and stumbled slightly before regaining her footing. Sam automatically held out a hand to help steady her, then looked at it awkwardly when he realized what he had done. She didn't miss the gesture and patted his shoulder lightly in thanks.

"You should get him to a place he can rest. He will probably need stitches on his head and he's going to be feeling like hell when he wakes up. The internal damage to his brain took all the juice, it didn't help the ribs or the cut. I'm sure you can handle all that, so you can probably skip the hospital," Sadie advised.

Sam checked Dean's pulse again, exhaling a big breath in relief to find it strong and steady. He was going to be fine. She had really done what she said. He wasn't sure how, but she had healed him. Sam wasn't quite sure what to do next. They still needed to question her. While he was willing to believe that she wasn't the person they were after, he suspected she knew plenty about it and could help them. She had known what they were after her for. Letting her walk away was not really an option, but could he really stop her?

"How about I help you get him to wherever you are staying and we can talk," she offered, reading the uncertainty in his features. "I know you have questions, but Dean will likely wake soon and I think it would be best that he's as comfortable as we can get him when he does."

The car was only a couple of blocks away. It would only take Sam a few minutes to get to it, but he didn't want to leave her alone with Dean. He didn't think she would hurt him since she had just exhausted herself healing him, but he didn't expect that she would stick around either. If he sent her for the car, Dean would rip his lungs out and beat him to death with them for letting a stranger, worse a succubus, drive it. Luckily, Dean solved the problem for him.

"Sammy?"

He could barely be heard, but it was the sweetest sound Sam had heard all day. His brother's eyes were open, the pupils both the same size and focusing clearly. He was trying to sit up, and his eyes and jaw clenched with pain, a hiss escaping through his teeth.

"Hey! Hey Dean, just relax, okay?" Sam pleaded, resting a hand against Dean's chest to stop his movement. Dean fell back, Sam catching him with an arm behind his shoulders. "I got you, you're gonna be fine. Just stay put for a minute, all right?"

Dean kept his eyes closed and breathed deeply, his features smoothing out as the pain ebbed. "You okay, Sammy?"

"Yeah Dean, I'm fine," Sam answered, chuckling slightly. It never failed. Dean could be sitting there with his head nearly torn off and he would still ask about Sam first thing.

Sam glanced up at Sadie to check her position to find her studying Dean with narrowed eyes. He couldn't describe the emotion hovering there. She noticed Sam's stare and shrugged. "He's just doing better than I expected," she said quietly.

"He doesn't stay down long, even when he should," Sam responded, one corner of his mouth lifted in a rueful smile. That summed up his brother nicely.

Dean only gave himself a couple of minutes of rest before he opened his eyes and started to try and rise again. Sam saw the determination on his brother's face and knew he only had two options; let him fall on his face and possibly hurt himself again or help him. Sam got his legs under him, and with a firm hand on Dean's bicep and one on his back to steady him, he and Dean both stood up slowly. For a moment Dean wavered slightly, pitching a bit to the side, but Sam's strong grip helped to steady him.

"You good?" Sam asked. Dean nodded gingerly, eyes smashing closed again at the small movement.

"Note to self, no nodding. Yeah, just got the mother of all headaches. Did you get her, Sammy?" Dean asked, his voice husky and slurring slightly. He had given up on trying to hold his head up, merely let it hang down so that his chin drooped against his chest. If Sadie had healed the worst of the injury, then it must have been a doozy for Dean to still be exhibiting symptoms of a concussion. At least there didn't seem to be any nausea. That was something to be thankful for.

"Yeah, she's taken care of Dean." If Dean hadn't noticed that she was there, Sam wasn't going to point it out right now. It wasn't time for all the questions he knew would come pouring out of Dean's mouth the second he knew what happened.

A goofy smile was curving Dean's lips when he lifted his head slightly. "Good job Sammy. Bitch had it coming, breaking my head." His head rolled forward limply again.

Sam caught Sadie's eye with a worried smile. She didn't look offended. "Let's get you back to the motel and we'll have a nice long chat after we get you some painkillers, okay?"

"The good stuff?" Dean asked with a hopeful smile, this time opening his eyes just enough to meet Sam's.

"Yeah, the really good stuff." Sam counted himself incredibly lucky that Dean was still out of it enough to not notice Sadie. He wasn't sure how he was going to handle the explanations as it was, at least this bought him more time. Right now, he just wanted to get Dean in a bed so he could rest. The question and answer session would need to wait.

* * *

Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear what you think, so please review or drop me a message if you'd like.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N - Thanks again to all that have read this so far, especially those that have reviewed and are following. I hope you continue to enjoy the story!

Disclaimer - I wish I did, but I don't own any piece of Supernatural. I'm just playing with them, I'll put them back where I found them.

* * *

They barely made it out of the building before Dean noticed that they were not alone. Sadie was a silent shadow behind them and Dean still wasn't steady on his feet, but his hunter's instincts were as solid as ever. The cool night air helped to clear a bit of the fog that was making it hard to focus. Sam's only warning was his brother hesitating slightly, his muscles stiffening, then Dean was grabbing the knife out of Sam's waistband and swinging around. He staggered slightly, but was able to regain his balance quickly. He had managed to shove Sam behind him, his eyes firmly on the woman that was now in front of him.

Sam swore quietly. He had really been hoping to avoid this.

Sadie immediately stopped moving, her hands coming back up in a non-threatening gesture for the third time that night, weariness spreading over her features. Sam was pretty sure it wasn't going to work this time.

"What the hell, Sam? I thought you got her?" Dean bit out, the words slightly slurred, but clearer.

Now that there was a threat, Dean would shove all his pain aside and overdo everything, hurting himself more in the process. Sam had seen him do it a million times. He was trying to toss over responses in his head, looking for the one that wouldn't send Dean into orbit. He was also trying to support Dean's now swaying frame without being too obvious about it so his brother didn't shove him away or do something equally guaranteed to send him to the floor. Neither was an easy job and trying to do both meant that he wouldn't be overly successful at either.

"She saved your life, Dean." It wasn't the best option, but it was what he settled on when he felt Dean's knees start to give way. One hand went quickly to Dean's elbow, hoisting him back up so that he was resting against Sam's arm again, then released it when he felt Dean get his feet back under him. He had to get them back to the motel asap.

Dean snorted in disbelief. "No one would have to save my life if she didn't throw me into a fucking shelf!" he yelled, glaring at Sadie. He listed again to the side and this time Sam had to very obviously prop him up. He got a firm hold on Dean's arm before Dean could jerk away.

Sadie looked up at Sam, a question in her eyes. Sam shook his head. He didn't want her talking to Dean right now, he wasn't exactly in the mood to listen. Sam had managed to talk his big brother down from all sorts of things, he was just hoping he could manage it again. Even if Dean was about five seconds from falling on his ass, the knife was still held dead steady in front of him.

"She didn't mean to, Dean. Look, I'll fill you in on all the details, but let's get back to the room before you fall down, all right? You're too damn heavy for me to carry you to the car. Seriously man, you should drop down to just cheeseburgers and lay off the bacon," Sam griped playfully, trying to get his brother to turn back to the door.

Dean was having none of it. He didn't know what the hell was going on, but he knew that she was bad news and that something must have happened to Sam. God knew, he loved his less than human chicks and this one was a looker. Who knew what lines she fed him when he was out, what spell she might have put on him? Sam had been alone, she could have put the succubus mind trick on him.

Saved his life. Then why did he feel like he'd been dropped off a cliff?

What a joke.

"Sure, we gank her and then we can be on our way," Dean said between clenched teeth. He wasn't trying to sound tough, he was doing that to stay focused and stay upright. His brain was still swirling around in his head and it was taking a lot of effort to talk, much less stand. Getting back to the motel sounded awesome, even if he didn't have any sheets, but he had to deal with this first.

Both Sadie and Sam sighed at the same time, which would have been funny in another situation. Sam could see the side of Dean's face and noticed that he was getting paler by the second, a fine sheen of sweat covering his skin. Sadie had said he would be better off in a bed when he woke up and she wasn't wrong. Knowing that it was going to piss his brother off exponentially, but also figuring Dean was a hair from passing out, he reached out and grabbed Dean's wrist, twisting the knife away. If Dean had been at full capacity, or even just a few percentage points better than he was right now, he would never have been able to do it, but the knife was now firmly back with him.

Sam thought he had been prepared for the look of confusion, betrayal and hurt that spread over Dean's face as he looked up at him, but he really wasn't. He hated to do anything to cause Dean to look at him like that, but it was for a good reason. Once Dean had some rest, he would explain everything and then Dean would understand. Hopefully.

"She's not what we're looking for. I'll explain everything when we get back to the motel, I promise Dean." Sam was trying for his most earnest tone, but it didn't seem to be budging his brother.

Dean eyed him carefully, then looked back over at Sadie. "What did you do to him, bitch?" he snarled.

Sadie had dropped her hands when Sam grabbed the knife. One hand was now pressed against the cut in her chest. She didn't seem to care too much about the gunshot wound. Her face was arranged in a smooth mask of neutrality and calm, not taking any outward offense to Dean's words or aggression. She glanced once more at Sam.

"Don't look at him, look at me!" Dean demanded, trying to pull out of Sam's grip. He was too weak and Sam too strong, so he only managed to flop a bit to the side before Sam pulled him back up. Damn head wounds. "You undo whatever little spell you put on him or I'll make you beg to die," he threatened, voice full of the promise of pain.

"Dean, I'm not under a spell..," Sam started.

"Shut up Sam!" Dean barked, his eyes still on Sadie.

To her credit, Sadie recognized that, even though Dean was injured, in pain and barely able to stand on his two feet, he was dangerous. She was treating him like a wild animal that was ready to strike the second she did something he didn't like.

"I didn't do anything to him. We just had some time to talk while we were taking care of you," she began in a soothing voice.

"Taking care of me? Like you took care of me earlier, busting my head?" Dean interrupted. The referenced head was starting to pound again. He would kill for some aspirin.

"I'm very sorry about that. I was just defending myself," she continued. "I didn't realize who…"

Sam jumped in this time. "She can help us Dean. She knows about the succubus that is killing people and she's willing to help," he said in a rush. He really didn't want to have to go into the fact that Sadie knew them in some fashion right now. That was a conversation better left for when Dean wasn't struggling so much to stay conscious and upright.

Dean looked up at Sam incredulously. What the hell was going on? Sam defending an admitted succubus? A creature that had tried to kill him? Of course, to be fair, she really had just been defending herself. Every chance she got, she tried to talk them out of it or ran. Dean would have shaken his head to clear the thoughts if he wasn't pretty sure his brain might squeeze out his ears from the movement. He knew he was a bit out of it, okay, a LOT out of it, but succubus equaled bad.

"Man, I don't know what she did to you, but I'm going to fix it. Just give me back the knife and I'll take care of this," Dean ordered, trying once more and failing yet again to pull away from Sam's grasp.

Sam had run out of patience. His stubborn brother would keep them out in the cold all night until he dropped. He understood why Dean was reacting this way. As far as he was concerned, Sadie was a monster. She had hurt him. She had to die. He had thought the same thing, but she had proven differently. Dean just didn't have the benefit of being awake to see it and come to the same conclusions as Sam. So, yeah, he understood it, but they didn't have time for it. Whatever help Sadie had given Dean was going to be for naught if he didn't get Dean holed up to recover fully soon.

He turned in front of Dean and bent down so that they were eye to eye. Dean's gaze was full of concern, mistrust and barely concealed pain. Sam's was honest, open and pleading. "Dean, listen carefully. I am not under a spell. I am not possessed. She didn't do anything to me. What she did to you, she feels really bad about it and she did her best to fix it. I'm pretty sure you'd be in a coma or dead right now if she hadn't. I get that you're concerned and don't get what's going on because you missed some important stuff when you were in lala land." Dean opened his mouth to comment, but Sam continued over him. "Now, I will tell you everything we talked about and everything that was done, but we are not doing it here. You are still hurt and you aren't doing yourself any favors arguing with me. So you have two choices. We all go back to the motel to talk or I call an ambulance for you."

A Winchester face off was truly something to behold. Neither brother was fond of backing down and both felt they were one hundred percent in the right on this. Both were stubborn and had no problems holding their ground or beating a dead horse once it was long past dead. These stand offs had gone on for days in the past. Narrowed green eyes clashed with determined bluish-green eyes, neither set offering any quarter, lips tight and pursed.

In this particular showdown, Dean knew he was beat. He might have made a more impressive stand had he not been leaning almost his full weight on his brother's hands. Besides, Sam certainly wasn't acting like there was anything wrong with him. It's just that nothing good had ever come from trusting someone less than human. It bit them in the ass every time. But he could admit that something had happened while he was out. Sam had been just as determined to kill her when they went into this and now he wasn't. If it wasn't something supernatural that was done to him, then it had to be a conclusion that he came up with on his own. Visions of Ruby floated into his head, but he stuffed them down. They had all made mistakes. He trusted Sam, more than anyone, and he needed to show it this time.

"You call an ambulance and I'll punch you in the neck," Dean stated, all the answer he was going to give. A relieved smile spread over Sam's face. "But!" Dean called out, halting that smile. "I want her to wear the cuffs." He reached into his jacket pocket with a grimace and pulled out his set of handcuffs.

Sam's lips twisted in exasperation and he thought to argue the need, but the hard set of Dean's jaw made it clear that he was giving up on this one. Sam looked over his shoulder to Sadie. She just shrugged and turned with her hands clasped behind her. "If I didn't know better, a girl might take this the wrong way," she remarked over her shoulder.

"No one asked your opinion," Dean shot out.

Sam changed his hold on Dean so that he was once again holding arm, but this time, he slung it over his shoulders. With one arm around Dean's waist, careful to avoid his sore ribs and the other holding Dean's wrist against his own chest, he dragged Dean over towards Sadie. He reached to take the cuffs from Dean. His brother snatched them away with an evil grin.

"Please, let me," he requested sweetly.

Dean dragged his arm back down and bent forward to wrap the cuffs around Sadie's wrists, Sam's hold switching to his shoulder. He didn't quite make it on the first try. "Stop moving!" he ordered. No one bothered to point out that she wasn't, he wouldn't believe them anyway because he wouldn't admit that he was seeing double. The cuffs were finally on, tightened a notch too much. Her fingers flexed, but she didn't complain.

"Too tight?" Dean asked with insincere concern. He leaned forward so that his mouth was right by her ear. "I just want it real clear. I don't trust you and if you make a wrong move, I will end you. No hesitation. Do we have an understanding?" He spoke barely above a whisper, but the threat was clear.

Sadie turned her head towards him, her lips only a breath from his. Dean jerked away in reflex. Getting too close to a succubus' mouth was a short ride to a casket. She stared him down, finally an edge of something other than meek and patient façade she had been portraying peeking out.

"Yes," she responded in a hiss.

Sam could see that the she was starting to run out of patience and thought she had been more than accommodating thus far, but he knew his brother had cause, so he wasn't really sure what to do. He did give her what he hoped was an apologetic smile, but felt more like a sickly grimace. It didn't wipe away the tightness in her jaw or the set of her lips, but she continued to stand still, waiting for them to make a move.

"You walk in front of us so we can keep an eye on you." Dean's words were really starting to slur again. It was clear that he was running out of steam. It was a good thing, because if he was firing on all cylinders, he would remember how fast Sadie could move. Sam already knew Sadie was only sticking around on sufferance, not because of anything they could do to make her. If Dean didn't know that, perfect.

"It's two blocks up, then one street down to the right," Sam said when he caught her gaze. "Black '67 Impala." She nodded in acknowledgement.

"My baby," Dean muttered. He was definitely looking forward to curling up on her seat, letting her low growl sooth his aches. The injuries were definitely catching up to him. His brief spurt of energy was long gone now, leaving only pain and exhaustion.

Sadie raised an eyebrow, but made no comment. She started forward, the street lights glinting off the silver of the handcuffs. Sam followed, half carrying, half dragging his brother at his side. It had to be quite a sight if anyone had bothered to look. He just hoped they could manage to get to the hotel room without any more issues. They could really use one thing going right tonight.

* * *

_TBC..._


	7. Chapter 7

A/N - Thanks so much to all of you that have read this so far, especially those that have reviewed and are following. I hope you like the new chapter. It's longer than I expected, but that's how it goes sometimes.

Disclaimer - I wish I did, but I don't own any piece of Supernatural. I'm just playing with them, I'll put them back where I found them.

* * *

The fifteen minute car ride back to the motel was unbearably tense, but thankfully uneventful. Sam drove with no debate from Dean, which said clearly that he wasn't doing well. Sadie sat next to Sam in the passenger seat, Dean right behind her with the knife out and ready. Dean was definitely not happy about having her in his car, but he stopped grumbling when Sam threw him a look that stated he was tired and done with playing around accompanied by a "Dean." that was a warning all itself.

Sam kept a careful eye on his brother in the rearview mirror, watching Dean glare at the back of Sadie's head. Sadie just stared out the window, leaning slightly forward so she wasn't fully resting on the handcuffs. Sam wasn't happy about those, but he didn't dare take them off. Dean would hit nuclear levels in a matter of seconds, no matter how out of it he was. He didn't miss that Dean's eyelids were starting to droop or that his chin would drift down to hit his chest before bouncing back up again sharply, eyes forced wide. Stubborn ass, he wouldn't dare let himself get some much needed sleep if he thought Sam was in danger.

Once they made it to the hotel, Sam quickly turned off the car and exited, trying to get to the back passenger door before Dean tried to make it out on his own. He was just in time to catch Dean before he landed face first on the pavement. He fought down his irritation, Dean could just never accept that he was hurt and needed help, reminding himself with a litany of memories how often Dean had cared for him in the past, and of how much he loved his brother. Even if he was a complete jackass when he was hurt because he just couldn't bear to be seen as weak by his little brother. Even if it made it a lot harder for said little brother to take care of him in turn.

"Thanks Sammy," Dean slurred quietly as Sam hefted him up, Dean grasping onto his arms so he could pull his feet out of the car. He was just so tired. His ribs hurt, his head hurt...he just wanted to fall into bed and sleep. He just had to deal with the succubus first and then that was the next item on his agenda.

Sam eyed Sadie waiting patiently in the front of the car. Dean was taking up all his hands at the moment and he was bearing enough of his weight that he didn't want to risk dropping him to let her out. As if sensing his indecision, she turned to look at him, eyes roving over Dean's limp form. She looked back up at Sam with a rueful smile.

"Take him in. I'll be here," she said.

"Thanks and, I uh…I'm really sorry about this," he offered with a slight shrug of his shoulder, the best he could do with his arms full of big brother. She just shrugged back in reply and turned back to face forward. He didn't want to keep her waiting any longer. "I'll be right back."

Getting Dean inside the room was a challenge in itself. Once he managed to prop Dean up so he could use a hand to wiggle the key in the lock, he kicked the door open and started to pull them inside. Dean decided he wanted to be helpful at that point, so he tried to participate by walking instead of being dragged. He only managed to catch a foot on a bump in the carpet and, unable to catch himself in time, started heading towards the floor. Sam lurched forward to catch him, a quick "Damn it," leaving his lips. He grimaced as he took all his brother's weight and gently guided him over to the bed that was closest. Dean fell back against the pillows with a groan, his face distorting as the pain spiked.

Sam checked to make sure Dean was stable on the bed and in no danger of falling out, then turned to go back out to get Sadie. To his surprise, she was already in the room, hands still cuffed behind her. He threw her a questioning glance to which she answered "I'm flexible." She closed the door with her foot, and made her way over to the table in front of the window. She scooted backwards so that her butt was firmly on the surface, long legs hanging off the side.

Her actions reassured Sam that she was sticking around, so he grabbed the first aid kit out of his bag and headed back over to his brother. Dean was conscious, but just barely. Only a slice of green from between his eyelids gave away that he was awake. Otherwise, he was still and quiet.

"Where is she?" Dean asked abruptly.

So much for quiet.

"She's here Dean. Let me take a look at that knot on your head, okay?" Sam requested, already pulling Dean up, who hissed and squeezed his eyes shut as the change in position caused the agony in his head to flare up. He ran fingers through the matted hair at the back of Dean's skull, finding the knot that he was discovered earlier. The bleeding had stopped long ago, a scab already formed.

Peering over Sam's shoulder, Dean settled his eyes on Sadie who was still sitting casually on the table. He wanted to have it out with her right that very second, go over what happened between her and Sam when he was down for the count. He didn't have a lot of time left, he could feel exhaustion deadening his limbs, his mind and he knew he wasn't going to be able to fight it much longer. His body needed the rest to heal and it would drop him if he wouldn't do it himself. He'd had it happen many times before, he knew the signs.

"So what happened?" he rasped out, question meant for Sam, death glare all for Sadie.

"Can you sit here a minute Dean? I need to get some water to wash it off." Sam ignored his question, only checked to make sure Dean was going to be able to hold himself up. He darted into the bathroom, the sound of running water starting.

Dean kept his eyes locked with the woman across the room. She hadn't moved, her face a calm mask of serene perfection, but there was an undercurrent of tension in her honey brown eyes. She waited expectantly, knowing he had something to say, but she wasn't going to engage him.

"Since he won't talk, how about you? What the hell happened?" he bit out harshly, wishing he had the strength to back up his threat. That serene, condescending little expression on her face was pissing him off.

To his profound irritation, he heard the water shut off in the bathroom and Sam emerged with dampened towels. His gaze cut between Sadie's neutral stance to the seething frustration running through Dean's entire body. His eyes were narrowed dangerously, his fists clenched at his sides. He looked about two seconds from leaping across the room at her.

"I guess I interrupted something," he commented, continuing to Dean's side.

Neither party spoke, so Sam continued with his ministrations. Once the blood was cleaned off the head wound, Sam saw that it was only a small cut. He could have sworn it was larger and deeper before, but figured that Sadie's healing touch had taken care of some of that as well. Since it didn't need stiches, or even a bandage, he moved on to Dean's ribs. Lifting Dean's shirt, he could see some bruising on his left side. He gently pressed on the bruises, looking for the tell-tale give or crackle that would indicate cracked or broken ribs. They felt solid, but the area was still painful, Dean's jaw clenched against the discomfort of Sam's examination.

Sam sat back and quickly checked Dean's pupils again, confirming that they were both still functioning normally, glaring at Dean when he crossed his eyes at him, then chuckling when his brother clenched them shut, the movement bringing some unexpected discomfort. Besides being incredibly tired, sore and bruised Dean was in pretty good shape considering he'd been at death's door once again just an hour ago.

"How's the head?" he asked, already reaching into the first aid kit for some painkillers. He had promised Dean the good stuff, but even then he hadn't intended to give it to him. Painkillers mixed with concussions could have disastrous results. Even if he was better now than he was, Dean was still disoriented and he might still have a concussion. So aspirin it was, regardless what Dean said.

"Good enough. Now let's have show and tell so I can get some sleep," Dean demanded, waving away the pills Sam held out for him.

Sam sighed. His brother was so predictable at times. "Dean, you need some sleep. We start talking now, you'll probably pass out about five minutes in. "

"What about her?" Dean asked, eyes flicking back over to Sadie. The fact that he didn't argue about needing sleep concerned Sam, made him wonder if he might be missing a more serious injury. Dean always played down his wounds and physical condition. Of course, maybe he was just too tired to hedge. It happened sometimes.

"I'll keep an eye on her until you wake up, okay Dean?" Sam offered.

"You need some sleep too," Dean responded, his eyes already growing heavier. He hadn't forgotten the reaction Sam had earlier when he got the memory. He knew his little brother was still wiped out from it, but he didn't want to bring it up in front of their captive audience.

"Yep, and I'll get plenty when you're awake and feeling better. Come on, lights out Dean." Sam pulled Dean's jacket off with little resistance or help from his older brother, then settled him back on the pillows. Dean's eyes were already shut by the time Sam stood up again. He started to move away when a hand clamped on his wrist. He looked back down at his injured brother, who was now starting up at him with determination.

"Sammy, keep the cuffs on. Don't trust her, no matter what. We don't know enough about her yet." The words were an order, but the pleading tone he spoke them in gained Sam's cooperation more than commands would. Dean was genuinely worried and if he thought Sam was in danger, he would force himself to stay awake. Not happening on Sam's watch.

"Yeah, sure Dean. I know, we can't let our guard down," Sam assured him, holding Dean's gaze steadily.

Dean gave Sadie one last mistrustful and warning look, then released Sam, sinking back down into the pillows with a pained grunt. He was out in seconds if his deep, steady breathing was anything to go by. Sam continued to watch him for a moment, checking to make sure his breathing wasn't labored in any way, that his lungs were fully inflating and not hampered by the bruised tissue around his ribs. Satisfied, he decided that Dean was just sleeping and not unconscious, but he would still do the usual concussion routine and wake him every hour.

Sam took off Dean's boots, setting them beside the bed. He recalled the Dean's bed didn't have sheets, but it was too late to do anything about it now. He grabbed the sheets and blanket from his bed and settled them around Dean, leaving him with only a flat sheet. It wasn't exactly cold in the room and he could put the heat on. It would be fine.

He swallowed a yawn that rose up at the thought of sleeping. Now that the excitement had died down and Dean was settled, the adrenaline had left his body in a major way. He was damn tired, he was pretty sure he could just drop on the bed and pass out, but there was one significant obstacle to that and she was staring at him. Sam wondered what the hell he was going to do with her. Did she sleep? Dean knew way more about succubi then he did. Dad always left him out of those particular hunts due to his age and the nature of the succubi's main method of attack.

"You must do this kind of thing often," she remarked, nodding her head in Dean's direction.

Sam followed her gaze back to his sleeping brother, his expression softening at the sight of him resting peacefully. "More than I'd like," he replied, turning back to her.

Sadie's eyes dropped down to the ratty carpet. "I'm sorry my actions made you have to do it again." Her voice was soft, but there was no denying the sincerity.

"Well, as you said, you were just defending yourself," he replied. He did believe that. If they hadn't pursued her, she would have disappeared without hurting either of them. The question remained if that was a good thing or bad thing. She was still a succubus, a monster, and just because she didn't attack them didn't change that.

Even if nothing fit or made sense about that.

He eyed the wounds on her chest and shoulder. He couldn't see much of the shoulder wound as it was hidden by her shirt, but the slash on her chest was ugly. It did look slightly better than it had when she had first healed Dean, so it must be healing. "Would you like me to look at those for you?" he asked hesitantly.

She looked down like she had forgotten the injuries were there. "A wet towel would be good. I'll be fine, my body kind of takes care of itself," she added with a smile. "Thank you Sam."

Sam retrieved another towel from the bathroom, stopping to wet it down. He gave it to her and she pressed it against the cut, dabbing at the dried blood. An awkward silence fell between them, questions welling up in Sam, as he recalled some of the other things she had said that night. Starting with knowing their Dad.

"So…um…how did you know our Dad?" he asked hesitantly.

Head tilted to the side, she looked back up at him, a mischievous smile playing about her lips. "I know that you're curious about me Sam. I'm curious about you, too. Both of you. But I think we should hold off on any memory lane tripping until Dean can join us. I don't think he'd appreciate being left out again," she suggested.

Sam didn't disagree, but he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do now. He had a passed out brother and a handcuffed succubus that he didn't know what to do with. See if she wanted to play cards? Charades? He couldn't let her go, he had promised Dean. Knowing eyes once again spotted his dilemma.

"Look, you obviously could use some sleep too. I promise; I will stay here until you both wake up and then we can have a nice long chat full of uncomfortable silences and threats against my life. I don't know about you, but I certainly don't want to miss that," she offered sardonically.

Sam hesitated with uncertainty and confusion. So much about her didn't make sense and while every hunter's instinct he had said not to trust her, his instinct, what made him who he was, felt like he could.

"I don't get it. Why would you stay here? You could have taken off a million times tonight, why are you just hanging around? I know we're not much of a threat to you," he finally asked, hoping to get just a bit more clarity.

"Well you did save me from your brother stabbing me with that rude little knife, so I figure I owe you a solid. Besides, I meant what I said; I'm curious about the two of you. So go ahead and cuff me to the chair in front of the TV. I can entertain myself for a few hours. It'll be fine," Sadie reassured him.

Debating the options wasn't really worth it because there weren't any. He didn't relish the idea of trying to make small talk with her while avoiding anything he actually wanted to talk about. He was exhausted. He may not have ended up cracking his head on a shelf, but he'd had a rough day in his own right. The information he'd gleaned from that memory earlier had filled his head with questions and fears that he'd had no opportunity to clarify. He'd managed to push them down to get the job done, but they were back with a vengeance now. The only one who had any answers was sleeping off another rough night on the job.

Sam ran a hand through his already tousled hair, mouth turned down in indecision. If he went with her suggestion and she disappeared while he was sleeping, he would lose some of Dean's trust. He was still working on getting it back. He needed to prove to Dean that he was still solid and capable. It would be all that much harder to get him to let Sam take care of things the next time he was injured. And there would be a next time, they were just that lucky.

This time he wasn't able to stifle the yawn and it was a jaw cracker. Screw it, he needed some sleep, he could barely think. He'd be waking up in fifty minutes anyway to rouse Dean. How much trouble could she get into in that small amount of time?

'Oh a lot' the little voice in his head answered. Shut up, he thought back.

Yeah, definitely ready for some shut eye, he was getting delirious.

"I'd like to leave you loose, but…" Sam started.

"Hey, it's okay. I get it," she broke in. "Big brother over there would blow a fuse. I don't blame you for not trusting me, I don't expect anything else."

He nodded. "Well thanks again, you really are being astonishingly reasonable about all this. I'm just going to get things set up, okay?"

At her nod, Sam grabbed one of the chairs by the table and set it in front of the TV. He shoved the recliner out of the way. He would like to put her in the comfier chair, but there wasn't anything to hook the cuffs to. He turned to gesture her over, but she was already standing beside him. He started back in surprise. She just smiled at him and turned her back.

"I am hoping you'll move these to the front so I'm not sitting on my hands all night." Sadie wiggled her fingers. Sam could see the pinched skin, reddened and bruised from the tight metal. He felt a rush of guilt that he'd kept them on so long and worse, intended to keep them on.

"Yeah, of course, sorry," Sam mumbled, moving over to grab Dean's jacket. He found the key in the front pocket. The cuffs came loose and Sadie immediately started to rub her wrists. She sat down in the chair.

"So how do you want me?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.

Sam looked down at her, an answering quirk on his lips at her suggestive words. He didn't think she was flirting, it just seemed to be her way. She reminded him of the silver screen bombshells, all tough and sexy. She really was beautiful. He knew it wasn't real, that succubi were hideous beneath their pretty shells, but it was a well put together façade.

"Just put your hand down, I'll cuff it to the chair and leave the other free," he explained. She did as he said and he snapped the cuff back in place, snug, but not tight.

He reached over to turn on the TV and snatched the remote that was resting beside it. He handed it to her with a smile. She took it and immediately started flipping through channels.

"It's not too loud, is it?" she asked.

Sam laughed quietly. "Nope, for us TV is like white noise, knocks us right out."

He grabbed two beers and a bottle of water from the mini fridge and set them on a side table within her reach. She nodded her thanks. Sam looked her over, trying to think if there was anything else he could to make this a bit more comfortable for her. Who was he kidding? She was on a hard kitchen chair, looking at twelve channels on a crappy TV that was mostly playing infomercials. Comfortable wasn't going to happen.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" he asked hopefully, wanting her to give him some other ideas to make him feel a bit better about this entire situation.

"I'm good. Thanks Sam." She didn't look at him again, just continued to flip through channels. She leaned back in the chair and crossed her legs.

Sam hesitated a moment more, then moved quickly around the room to check the salt lines they had laid before they left. He paused by the door, noted that it was still intact, then moved onto the window. He froze. The salt line. Sadie had walked right over it. He looked over at her, the picture on the TV flashing light over her face. He said it once tonight, he was going to say it again; What the fuck? Dean had mentioned that salt worked on succubi, she why hadn't it worked on her?

Later. That was a question for when Dean was awake.

"So I'll be waking up in less than an hour to check on Dean. Let me know if there's anything you need, okay?" he called out, now next to his bed.

"You got it," she responded.

Sam quickly set his cell phone alarm to ring in forty five minutes. He checked Dean over again, and finding no reason for concern, he flopped into his own bed. He thought it would be difficult to relax into sleep knowing there was someone in the room, someone potentially dangerous, but it wasn't. He was out just minutes after his head hit the pillow.

* * *

Sam only set his cell phone twice more after he woke the first time to the alarm. Dean was still sleeping easily, had even moved into a more comfortable position. He didn't wake quickly, but his irritation and grumbled threats told Sam that he was doing okay. The next time earned him a punch to the arm and the third got him a pillow in the face and some not so polite slurs on his character. Sam decided to just let him sleep for what was quickly becoming morning.

Each time he awoke, he also checked on Sadie. He was filled with relief each time that she was still there. She didn't ask for anything when he came by. He caught her sleeping the last time he woke up, which puzzled him. He didn't think demons slept, but there she was, head resting on her shoulder, eyes closed. He thought to put a blanket over her, but Dean currently had them twisted like origami around him. He did turn up the heat, just in case. Then he went back to sleep, this time with no alarm on the cell phone.

It was Dean who woke first. The light coming in through the thin curtains was falling right over his eyes. He blinked them open, then shut them tightly when confronted with the bright rays. He shifted so that he was out of the light, breathing in sharply at the ache in his ribs. So those still hurt, not too surprising. He moved his head gingerly, silently amazed that there was only a throb of discomfort left from the trauma it had gone through. On the whole, he felt pretty good. He actually felt like he had slept, which he couldn't normally say, even considering the times Sam had woken him up to check him for concussion.

He glanced over at the other bed, not at all surprised to see Sam there. Yes, the agreement was that Sam would keep watch on the succubus, but he didn't really expect him to stay up the entire time Dean was sleeping. That would be a bit rude, considering he had passed out on his little brother, leaving him to keep her occupied. Sam was such a boy scout that he would probably try to make friendly conversation.

He sought her out. She wasn't hard to find, sitting on a chair in front of the TV that was showing the morning local news. There were two empty beer bottles and a half filled water bottle on a table beside her. She turned to look at him, her eyes staring into his intently.

"It's a little early in the morning for that kind of look, sweetheart," he said with a smirk. She didn't react, but the sound of his voice was enough to rouse Sam. His head popped up, his eyes narrowed against the dim brightness of the room. His hair looked like it had been used for a bird's nest and then trampled by buffalo.

"Awesome bed hair, Sammy," Dean commented.

Sam's brow furrowed and he ran his hand through his hair in an automatic movement. Much as Dean had done, his next glance went over to Sadie who was still watching them quietly. Catching his glance, she smiled slightly, then turned back to the TV.

Dean didn't miss the exchange and he definitely wasn't loving it. He didn't like her playing up to Sam, he was a bit too vulnerable to pretty girls with very not pretty sides, and he didn't want to see his little brother hurt again. It was obvious he'd had a bad night. There were dark circles under his eyes and his skin was pale. Dean knew he was a shitty patient, he was surprised Sam hadn't smothered him with a pillow yet. As soon as this whole succubus thing was dealt with one way or the other, he was going to insist that his little brother get some sleep. Even if he had to sit on him.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked Dean, casting his eyes carefully over his brother. Dean looked good, still a bit wan and stiff with pain wrinkles around his eyes, but much better than he had.

Dean's eyes lingered on Sadie a moment more, assessing and warning, then moved back to Sam. Dean sat up, favoring his left side, but there was no increased pain in his head. A couple of acetaminophen and he would be good as new. "Not too bad, actually. In fact, I'm feeling well enough that I think it's time we discuss why we have a succubus in our room. Alive," he said purposefully.

Sam sighed. He knew this was coming, but was hoping he might have a bit more time before Hurricane Dean hit. He knew his brother was going to have some serious issues with the decision he'd made regarding Sadie, he was just hoping he could talk Dean around to understanding why he had made those choices.

Dean levered himself out the bed, stretching to ease the kinks in his back, grimacing as the sore muscles in his torso twisted. "I'm going to hit the head and when I get back, you're going to start talking. Both of you," he warned, eyeing both of them with varying degrees of threat. He disappeared into the bathroom, the door shutting the door with a forceful slam.

Head falling back onto the pillow, Sam held back a groan. He was still exhausted. His bones hurt with it. Along with the interrupted sleep he'd managed to get, he'd had nightmares for what felt like the entire night. Familiar ones, with Jess on the ceiling, Dean dying in some fashion, now the new addition of killing that kid he'd seen in the memory from the parking lot. Then there was the unfamiliar; faces he'd never seen, places he hadn't been, creatures he'd never killed. The memories he'd acquired while running around topside while his soul burned where starting to leak through, like a chunk of ice freeing itself from a glacier, exposing what was hidden underneath. How much was there before he hit his soul's memories of hell? How much time did he really have?

The sound of the running water shutting off in the bathroom told him he'd better get moving. Sam rolled out of bed and headed over to Sadie. She turned to greet him with a smile and shut off the TV.

"Hey," he greeted. "Bathroom?" he asked uncertainly. She wasn't like any other demon he'd seen so far, so maybe it was a necessity.

"Yes please," she said with relief.

Sam smiled and leaned down to remove the cuff. As Sadie stood up, Dean came out of the bathroom. He stared her down as she moved toward him. Sam could tell from the tensing of Dean's shoulders that she wasn't giving an inch. He tried really hard not to smile. It wasn't often his brother got this irritated just from someone not backing down. Dean inspired people to crawl away to corners, he could be damn scary when he wanted to be. Sadie moved past him into the bathroom, closing the door.

Dean just shook his head and headed over to sit gingerly in the recliner. It looked more comfortable that it was, more metal springs than cushion, but he was betting it was more comfortable than the hardback chairs. "I don't like this, Sammy," he commented, looking at his brother with hard eyes.

"Yeah, I got that Dean," Sam sighed as he grabbed the other chair and dragged it over. He plopped into it and rubbed his hands over his face, trying to wipe away the fatigue.

Sam looked over at Dean sitting across from him and decided that he was going to try and get some questions answered. Was it smart? No, Dean would flip out. Was it necessary? Yes, or he was going to flip out. He didn't know when he might have Dean alone again and with what he'd seen last night and what images came through in his nightmares…he couldn't wait anymore. Besides, he had a built in interruption guaranteed if this went as bad as he figured, Sadie wouldn't stay in the bathroom forever.

"Um Dean?" Sam asked tentatively.

Dean looked up at him, his brow already furrowed with suspicion. He didn't like the sound of that. That hesitant little voice had led to more chick flick moments than Dan liked to think about.

Sam almost lost his nerve. Dean was already so pissed off and just spoiling for a fight, did he really want to talk about this now? No, but he truly felt like he didn't have another choice. "When I was…" his voice tapered off again. He was running out of time and he knew it. Thunderclouds were starting to gather in Dean's eyes, turning them a dark shining green. Not a good sign. He knew what was up. Just rip off the band aid, get it done. "Is our grandfather Samuel alive and did I hunt with him?" The words came out in a rush, all running into each other.

At first Sam thought Dean was going to hit him, but it wasn't anger that was twisting his features. It was despair. It was terror. Sam felt a stone lodge in his stomach, twisting and turning. If Dean was scared, then what the hell should he be? God, he was so screwed.

"Something came through, didn't it?" he asked, his voice deep and rough with the emotion he was trying to keep under control. Sam looked so frightened, so fragile. He looked so young, like that little four year old that would climb into his bed when the weather got bad. Dean wanted that look gone, he'd had it gone. How could it be back again so soon?

A few days? A few lousy fucking days was all they got? Death, the most powerful being in the entire fucking universe couldn't manage to build a brain dam that would last more than a couple of weeks? Son of a bitch! Why, why did the world pick the Winchesters to shit on? Why Sammy?

"Yeah, big time," Sam whispered, eyes dropping to the floor. He couldn't bear to see his brother fighting to keep the torment off his face anymore. Watch him push aside his own feelings to be strong for his little brother.

"That's…complicated," Dean finally responded, calmer. He still wanted to punch something really, really hard, but he had expected this to happen. If it sucked beyond words, it was going to happen to them. He just had to figure out how to answer Sam's questions without causing him to want to root around in his head more. If he said nothing, told Sam to shut up and forget about it, that's exactly what would happen. Sam was looking at him with such tragedy and such hope. He really expected Dean to make it better, but Dean didn't know how to fix this and he was terrified that anything he tried was going to make it worse.

He was about to continue when Sadie came back into the room. Both brothers looked over at her, Dean with a curious mixture of animosity and relief, Sam with frustration.

"You want me to go back in, boys?" she asked, jerking her thumb back towards the room she had just left.

"Nah, join the party," Dean responded with his most fake and sarcastic smile. He may have dodged a bullet for now, but he knew he was going to have to answer Sam's questions. Just not now. Fair to Sam? Nope, not even a little, but it was better than Dean screwing up his head more than it already was because he wasn't prepared. Now he had some time.

Sadie crossed the room and sat back down in her chair. Dean nodded toward the cuff, but was hit by a gale force Sammy bitchface.

"Dean, she's not going anywhere. Not necessary," he argued.

Dean considered insisting, but figured Sam was right. She could have cut out during the night, but she didn't. He didn't know why, but oh well. It was her funeral if he didn't like what she had to say.

"So," Sadie said, crossing her legs and leaning back into the chair. "Where should we start?"

* * *

_Thanks for reading!_

_TBC_


	8. Chapter 8

A/N - A lot of talking in this chapter, sorry, but it was necessary to the story. Please bear with me, more excitement to come in the next chapter! Thanks so much to all of you that have read this so far, especially those that have reviewed and are following. I hope you enjoy the new section!

Disclaimer - I wish I did, but I don't own any piece of Supernatural. I'm just playing with them, I'll put them back where I found them.

* * *

Dean made the executive decision to have them explain the events that transpired when he was unconscious. Sam glanced over at Sadie who was looking expectantly at him. Okay, so he would explain. He leaned forward in the chair, elbows resting on his thighs, clasping his hands between his knees.

"Uh..well, when you hit the shelf, we were still fighting," he started, working through the memories of the night, trying to grab just the pertinent information. Dean wasn't known for his patience. "She got loose and instead of attacking or bolting, she offered to help you."

"Help me how?" Dean shot out.

"To heal you, at least the best she could," Sam replied, eyeing Dean carefully. Dean already knew that, had he forgotten? Was it the head injury?

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah I get that, how exactly did you do it?" He aimed that question at Sadie. Sam followed his gaze. He'd really like to know the answer to that too.

For a moment, she looked back and forth between them. Dean saw it as her buying time to lie and was about to "encourage" her to speak up when she continued.

"That's….complex," she said with a sigh. "It's just something I'm able to do. I can return the energy that feeds me, that heals my body, to someone else and it heals them too." Her speech was halting and wary, like she was picking her words with extreme care.

"And what's the method to return this energy?" Dean asked suspiciously, sitting forward now to match Sam's stance. He had a strong feeling he wasn't going to like the answer to this. The sheepish, uncomfortable look on Sam's face wasn't making him feel better.

Sadie shrugged, looking down at her bruised wrists thoughtfully. "Usually a kiss, or skin on skin contact."

The words filtered through a bit slower than he would have liked, but once they did, Dean almost lunged out of the chair at his brother. "A kiss?! You let a succubus kiss me, Sammy? Talk about serving me up on a plate. The ultimate fast food, right, get it while it's unconscious?" he shouted, starting to wonder again if she had managed to work a spell over his brother.

"It wasn't like that, Dean," Sam said hurriedly, hands out in front of him like he was calming a rabid dog. "She was really concerned about you, she wanted to help. She practically begged me!" He knew this was going to happen, he'd known it from the very second he had let her touch his brother, but he didn't expect to falter so much in the face of Dean's anger that was bordering on thinking Sam had betrayed him. Again. Sam wasn't about to let him go there, it's not even close to what happened.

"How does any of that make any sense, Sam? Please tell me, because I'm not getting it at all. Is there something else I'm missing?" Dean asked with heavy sarcasm, getting more incensed by the minute.

"Oh for fuck's sake…stop!"

Both brothers' heads swiveled to the sound of that angry voice, words stopping. Sam wasn't too surprised, he had heard Sadie get agitated before, but it was a shock to Dean. He hadn't heard anything but meek, mild, unthreatening Sadie and he was clearly shocked that there was something else. He looked like he was about to tell her in not so uncertain terms to shut her cake hole when she continued.

"I'm too tired for this. Look, do you feel some overwhelming attraction to me that you're just really good at hiding? Do you feel the need to obey my every command?" she questioned sardonically, addressing Dean.

"Hell no," Dean spat coldly.

"Exactly, which means I didn't do anything to you other than exactly what Sam said; heal you. You live and get to be grumpy and unpleasant another day. Yay for all of us. Now how about you exercise some restraint and let me finish," she suggested, her tone now biting and hard.

Dean fought down the urge to do her bodily harm, even though he really wanted to. She was pushing every button he had, and he had a lot. He wasn't sure why he was filled with so much rage when it came to her, and while it bothered him, he couldn't control it. He normally reserved this amount of scathing animosity for the bad guys that had really done a number on them in personal ways; Alistair, Ruby, Meg, Zachariah, Lucifer, Samuel, the list went on. Sure, she had hurt him, but it wasn't personal, it wasn't done to fuck with his head or betray him. She wasn't in their league. Yet it was still there, that burning wrath filling every part of him. He glanced over at Sam who was looking worriedly between the two of them, body tensed to intervene if necessary.

"The only restraint I'm interested in exercising is handcuffing you back to that chair. You are not in control here. You are only still breathing because we're allowing it." Voice low and deadly, Dean's green eyes were narrowed in on Sadie's in a lethal glower.

She didn't seem impressed or concerned, merely crossed her arms and tossed her head back, long red hair falling behind her shoulders. "That's an interesting viewpoint. See, I think I'm still here because I want to be. I didn't even have to come here; I could have gotten away from you at any time. Last night? You had me cuffed to a ten pound chair. Yeah, that's secure, no way I could have possibly picked that up and walked away or anything," she stated with rolled eyes, her sarcasm rivaling Dean's.

That was it. Dean stood abruptly, a finger pointed in her direction, mouth opening and ready to let loose, when Sam spoke up.

"She knew our Dad, Dean."

It was Sam's last card and it seemed to have at least stunned Dean into silence. He stood there, head tilted and eyes narrowed as if he hadn't heard what Sam had said.

"You want to run that one by me again?" he asked quietly, deceptively calm, turning away from Sadie to fully face his brother.

Sam noted that Sadie had been prepared to meet Dean's charge, he could see it in the way she had uncrossed her legs, her lazy stance tightening in preparation. He remembered how fast she was and knew that she could have easily evaded Dean. That was only going to set him off even more and Sam didn't relish the thought of having a full on brawl start. So maybe it wasn't the right time to bring it up, but it was all he could think of to get Dean to stand down long enough to diffuse the situation.

"She knew who we were. Asked if we were John's boys," Sam explained eagerly.

Dean nodded thoughtfully, then raised a hand to his jaw to rub wearily at his chin. It dropped down again, a smile that still managed to turn down his lip spreading over his face. "And you bought that Sam? Lots of bad things know who we are, why would that mean anything to you?"

Sam heard that tone in Dean's voice, that one that said he thought Sam had screwed up, made the wrong decision. That he was cracked in the head, that he couldn't be trusted. The tone that said even though he'd disappointed his brother yet again, it was okay because he wasn't expected to do any better. Dean expected him to mess up, he always did right?

"It was more than that, Dean. How often do the bad guys try to help us?" Sam reasoned, grasping for anything that would justify his actions to his brother. Even as he said it, he knew it was the wrong thing to use.

"Oh I don't know, how about every time they want to use us for whatever fucked up plan they have brewing?" Dead reminded him scathingly, the undercurrent of anger growing into a full on riptide. He knew Sam wouldn't have trusted her easily and that there had to be a good reason, but as soon as he settled on that train of thought, the anger pushed him off of it.

"I don't have a plan!" Sadie broke in yet again. Sam looked over at her with some akin to gratitude. Dean didn't look at her at all, his eyes still glued to Sam. "If you recall, I wasn't trying to make friends, I wasn't trying to ingratiate myself, I just wanted to leave! That's all I still want to do. I thought we could have a civilized conversation, but it's clear that's not even remotely possible so I can still just go. No harm, no foul," she offered.

Dean did look at her then and it wasn't friendly. "So how exactly did you know our Dad? Did he hunt you once, too? Did you pull the same shit on him as you did my brother and convince him to let you go?" Dean fired off the questions at her, stalking closer to her. A part of him knew he should be more cautious with her, but the louder part was insistent that she was up to no good, that she was going to rain a world of hurt down on them if he gave even an inch. It wasn't logical, all the evidence pointed to the contrary, but there was something in his gut that refused to let go of the certainty that she was trouble.

Sadie jerked back when Dean's hands clamped down on the sides of the chair, bringing their noses within centimeters of each other, eyes so close they nearly crossed to keep contact. "If you could have run, why didn't you?" His voice was low and cold, his breath ghosting over her face. "Why stay when you know what we are, when you know that we came to kill you? Why not just kill us the moment you were on to us? Why take the chance?"

Sadie glared up at Dean obstinately. "I owed John a debt and once I found out who you were, I figured letting one of his sons die wouldn't exactly put me in the black, so I saved you. That's it, end of story. You aren't hurt, Sam's not hurt. Everyone walks away."

Dean wasn't satisfied. "Why did you owe him?"

"I'm not sharing my life story with you," she answered bitterly.

Finally, Dean leaned back and stood, releasing his grip on the chair. The smile playing about his mouth was almost cruel. "See, I think you will." He reached back and removed the knife from the small of his back and held it casually in his grip. He was done playing games and it was so satisfying to see her defiant eyes finally react with something different, something closer to fear, as they rested on the knife.

That fueled Sam into motion, breaking him out of the horrified fascination he'd had with the scene playing out before him. "Dean, what the hell man?" he asked, pulling his brother away from Sadie. Dean jerked away, intending to go right back towards his prey, but Sam held firm. "What is with you? You're going to torture her? Just to find out how she knew Dad? That's crazy, Dean," Sam said, seriously concerned. He could understand Dean not wanting to be best friends with her, but he was heading into territory that only led to darkness and he didn't get why.

"It's not his fault, Sam." Sadie unknowingly answered his question. "It's mine."

At that, Sam was now thoroughly confused and it showed when he looked back over at her. Dean followed suit, his glower now tempered with triumph. "See, Sammy, told you she did something," he crowed. Sam still didn't release his arm, but Dean wasn't fighting against him anymore.

"What does that mean, Sadie?" Sam asked, trying to fight down that panic that Dean might have been right all along, that she was playing them.

With a deep sigh, Sadie covered her face with her hands, her entire body suddenly collapsing onto itself. Her hands lifted to run back through her hair, eyes closed. When they opened again, settling on the brothers still standing before her, they were hardened with bitter resolve.

"My Dad, well adoptive father really, was a hunter," she started, her tone flat and empty. "My real father is more like a sire, an incubus that mated with a human woman. I am the offspring. That's the usual recipe for succubi and incubi. My Dad came looking for the incubus, found me instead. I was only a few hours old, my mother had died giving birth to me. When the incubus came to get me, my Dad fought him off and the incubus ran, leaving me behind. Even a hardened hunter couldn't murder a newborn, so he took me with him."

There was a challenge in her eyes as she stared them down, as if daring them to question her story. Sam could see that she was uncomfortable sharing this with them, but it was dropping Dean's unreasonable anger back down to normal levels. He could feel the tenseness leaving his brother's bunched up muscles, and he allowed him to pull away the next time he tried.

Dean settled himself back down in the chair, putting the knife away. He wouldn't admit it, but he wasn't feeling too proud of himself at the moment. He had truly been about to start cutting on her if Sam hadn't intervened. He didn't even know why, but she said that she did. So he was going to listen and try to keep himself under control. He'd crossed a line that he swore he would never cross again and it terrified him. He'd still gank her if he had to, but he would listen to her first, like Sammy had. Maybe he would come out understanding why Sam had trusted her.

"What was his name?" Dean asked softly. He hadn't missed that she was referring to him in the past tense, which meant he was dead. He glanced up as Sam also took a seat next to him.

"Charles Redgrave, Charlie to his friends." She paused a moment more waiting to see if there would be more questions, then continued when none were forthcoming. "I grew rapidly. In less than a month, I looked like this. That's when the hunger began. Luckily Dad knew what it was and he knew how to help me. Turns out, I had to kill in order to completely turn into a succubus. The lore reads that a one to one connection needed to be made for a true feeding. So Dad taught me how to get what I needed from a mass feeding; take a little from many instead of everything from one. "

"That's what you're doing at the club," Sam piped in.

"Yes. As long as I don't focus my attention on one person, no connection is made and no one gets hurt. It was working pretty well, we," she paused then, her eyes filling with sadness before they drifted down to her hands. "We got on along really well. He treated me like his daughter. The hunting community got wind of what I was and made several attempts to kill me, certain that I had him under my control, but we were able to fend them off. Dad was largely ostracized, but he didn't mind. We just traveled around the country and he continued to hunt and I did what I had to do in order to survive and not hurt anyone."

"What does it mean that you haven't made your first kill? What does that make you?" Dean asked, truly curious now.

"A succubus light?" Sadie joked with a playful, if forced, smile. Then she grew serious again. "I'm not strong like they are, I'm human strong. I am faster than a human, but not as fast as a true succubus. I can heal myself like they can, but I can also share that ability. Well, maybe they can too, I doubt they would ever think to try. I don't have another form. The monster you think of? That's their true form, complete with killer claws and teeth. I'm only what you see. I'm just some weird, half-baked hybrid, not a monster, not a human."

"Salt doesn't seem to bother you, I guess that makes you more human than demon," Sam commented.

Dean looked at him sharply, then over to the intact line in front of the door. He had just figured that Sam had broken it for her to let her in.

She quirked a tired smile at Sam. "I was worried you had caught that last night, but when you didn't say anything, I thought I'd gotten away with it. I figured you were counting on the salt lines to keep me here since you didn't really do much to secure me. No, salt isn't a problem for me. Holy water stings a bit, but it doesn't affect me like it does a demon. That knife you had is the only thing I've encountered that really reacted to me," she explained.

"So what's with the healing? I'm assuming you figured that out when Charles had a rough time on a hunt." Dean could definitely see that little skill coming in handy.

She nodded. "You would be right. It was a werewolf. At that point, I was helping him with the hunts. With my speed, I made the perfect bait. He got cut up really bad and so did I trying to save him. He killed the werewolf, but he was on the way out." Her eyes darkened with the memory. "Our clothes were in shreds and I was holding him to me. I noticed that he was getting better while I was getting worse. It wasn't sexual, but it was need, it was love and it was enough for my body to release that healing essence into him. I didn't even realize I was doing it. He survived that night when he would have died." Her voice had thickened with the tears the memory had dragged back. She cleared her throat abruptly.

"We did some experimenting after that to make sure we understood how it worked and found that my healing him had a side effect. Since the energy itself was formed out of lust, he started to feel differently towards me. Not..," she hesitated, waffling for the word. "fatherly anymore. It was causing him to be drawn to me, to want me. I'm sure you can imagine how awkward that was for both of us," she said with a shudder. "I hadn't yet tried to do anything with the succubi power of suggestion I had imbedded in my brain outside of the basic mass hypnosis I was using to feed, so I worked on adding a suggestion when healing him. I imbedded into it that he didn't want me like that, that I was just his little girl. It seemed to counteract the sexual nature of the healing after a few tries."

"So is that why I was about to go all Mr. Blonde on you? You gave me some sort of suggestion and it went haywire?" Dean asked.

Sam's brow furrowed and he looked over at his brother in question.

"Reservoir Dogs? Stuck in the Middle With You? The ear? Nothing?" Dean shook his head in disgust when Sam gave no indication of getting the references. He fought the urge to pout. No one ever got his movie references, or if they did, they didn't appreciate it.

"I thought it was funny," Sadie said, actually getting a small smile out of Dean. "Yep, that's why. I've only ever healed one other person other than my Dad and I didn't put in enough suggestion and it was….problematic. So I went a little overboard and ended up making you completely hostile and irrational. It'll wear off, just not as soon as I had hoped. I've just tried to not engage you any more than necessary until you were through it, but I'm a bit of a hot head. I am sorry for putting you through that, it wasn't intended to harm you, more to protect you," she explained.

Dean felt a surge of relief at that revelation. So something had been done to him to make him act with such violence, it hadn't come from him. To say he'd been worried didn't quite cover it. The thought of torturing someone almost made him sick, all it did was bring back memories of the pit, and to know he'd almost done it again…. No, not even worth thinking about, it wasn't really him. Besides, it was obviously wearing off because he hadn't felt the urge to kill her in a least the past ten minutes.

"The other person you healed, that was our Dad wasn't it?" Sam asked, lifting the silence that had fallen over them. He had been watching Dean carefully when Sadie explained why he was acting the way he was to make sure it didn't set him off again, but his big brother just looked like a weight had been lifted off of him. So something in him had noticed that something wasn't quite firing right in his brain.

"Head of the class, Sam," she declared with a smile. "I'd been with Dad for almost four years when my sire came back for me. Between the two of us, he should have been easy to defeat, but he was different. He was so much more powerful. He managed to cloud up my Dads mind, take him over. It wasn't lust, it was something else. I don't know what it was really, I still don't. He almost did the same to me, but I managed to fight it off and got us both out of there," Sadie said.

"My sire had said that he would keep coming and with us barely making it out alive…we knew we needed help so we could take him down first. Dad didn't really have reliable few contacts at that point, most of them wouldn't speak to him because of me. But there was one hunter he had met several years back that had been new to the job and might not know about me; John Winchester. Dad got in touch with him, explained the hunt while leaving the part about me out and John was on board."

"When was this?" Dean broke in, wanting to put some context to the hunt. Chances are it was in Dad's journal, it was starting to sound familiar.

Sadie didn't even have to pause to think. "September 1988. We were in Missouri at the time and John came out to meet us." Her eyes dropped away from them then, lingering on the floor, her hands, anything but their faces. "John wasn't totally comfortable working with us since we were unknown elements, but Dad knew his stuff, there was no denying that. We had a good plan. It just wasn't good enough. We went up against him and we lost hard. Dad was dead, no amount of effort on my part was going to bring him back." Her voice broke then and she swallowed hard enough that it had to hurt.

"John was severely wounded. When I saw him go down, I was trying to get to him when my sire got hold of me. He said he was going to force me to feed, that was all he wanted, to make me fully turn. I don't know how he did it, but John managed to almost decapitate him. "

She looked up at them then, eyes shining brightly, a tear tracking down her smooth cheek. The devastation visible in her gaze was enough for Sam's chest to tighten in sympathy.

"Your Dad saved my life. He was so hurt, I don't even know how he was still alive, but he kept fighting. My sire fled, wounded enough that he had to run. I healed the worst of John's injuries and got him to a hospital. I stayed with him while he recovered and all I could think about is that he had nearly died trying to save what he hunts. I had already caused the death of my Dad, I couldn't bear that I had almost killed yours too. As soon as I knew John was okay, I ran and I've been running ever since. No attachments, no ties." She stopped then, breathing heavily, trying to control the tears.

"I've never told anyone all of that," she whispered.

Sam glanced over at Dean and saw his brother looking at Sadie in a new light. There was sympathy, but more than that, kinship. There was no doubt she was telling the truth, she had described their Dad perfectly. How often had they seen Dad still fighting with injuries that would have killed someone else? If there was someone in danger that he was trying to protect, he would stop at nothing. Something he had passed on to his sons.

"I'm sorry about your Dad, Sadie. That had to be tough," Sam said softly.

She just nodded, wiping at the tears on her face with her fingers. "I'm just glad I was able to save yours. He talked about you, you know," she revealed, a shaky smile lighting up her sad face. "He was so proud of you both. Dean, he said you took such good care of Sam and that you were going to be the best hunter in the world someday. That you had such capacity to give love. Sam, he said you were so inquisitive, always wanted to know why and how things worked. That even though you were still so young, it was clear how smart you were. He swore you were going to be the new Einstein. I remember all of that so well, that's why I stayed. I wanted to meet his boys, see what they were like. John was such a great man, I knew you both had to be as well. I was sorry to hear about his death," she finished softly.

Dean swallowed down the emotion that was welling up inside him. Thinking about his Dad always hit him hard, hearing that he had talked about them, that he had been proud…yeah that got him right in the soft parts. He'd always needed Dad to tell him he was doing the right things, that he was proud, and sometimes Dad would, but not often. It meant a great deal to know that his usually gruff and rigid father had bragged about his boys. He looked over at Sam to catch his little brother dabbing his eye with his knuckle. Dean grinned at him. Such a girl.

"That's quite a story," Dean commented sincerely. "I wouldn't want to go up against you in the "Worst Childhood Ever" contest." He could only imagine what she had been forced to deal with growing up as she had. It reminded him of Sam in a way, having to constantly fight a part of him that was never going away and was just waiting for a moment of weakness to take over. Dean himself had felt it when he was a vampire for a short time, that constant battle against the need and hunger and knowing that it could all stop so easily if he just gave in.

"I'm sure you didn't have it easy, no hunter's children did," she responded.

Dean shrugged. "Maybe not, but we lived to drink the memories away another day." If that wasn't the truth, he didn't know what was. He had nightmares from the things he'd had to do and had dealt with as a child to survive that didn't even begin to compare with the harsh reality of their lives now, but still had scarred him forever.

Sam watched them to see if they were going to continue the conversation. It was nice to see them actually talking without threats of violence and he didn't want to interrupt. He was filled with questions that her story had brought up and he was eager to start asking them. When the silence continued, he decided it was a good time to bring up the most important question he had.

"Sadie, the entire reason we're here is that bodies have been piling up across the country. It seems a little coincidental that the club you're at just happens to have another succubus working there. I have a feeling if we track the path, it's the same one you've been on. So what's the story there?" Sam asked.

She didn't say anything for a moment, eyes distant and staring at something that wasn't really there. "It's my sire," she said finally. "He's…playing a game with me. Trying to…." she faltered, abruptly sitting straight up in her chair, eyes wide with what could only be described as fear.

"Sadie?" Dean asked, brows furrowed in confusion at the rapid change in her demeanor. He had to admit there was some caution there as well. He wasn't so positive she was out to get them anymore, but that didn't mean he trusted her a hundred percent either.

She was suddenly on her feet, almost without them seeing the movement, eyes darting around the room. "I've got to get you out of here," she mumbled, frantically turning in her search of the room.

Sam stood, moving close to her. "Hey, hey," he prompted, gently taking her arm to get her attention. The sheer panic he saw before she looked away again set off answering signals in his body, his muscles tensing, gut clenching. Dean had come to stand beside them. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I can't…I'm so sorry, I didn't think.." she almost sobbed out, all the calm and strength she had exhibited before gone. She didn't even seem to be aware of them in that moment, lost in her own terror and desperate need for escape.

"Sadie!" Dean barked out, using his most commanding tone. Sadie responded to it, wide and flared brown eyes steadying on his. "What's going on?" he asked more softly.

All the color fled her face, leaving her white and trembling, her eyes once again drifting away as if she as listening to something they couldn't hear. Sam's other hand came up to her elbow so that he was holding her steady. He sure she was about to faint, her breathing so shallow, skin bloodless.

"He's here," she whispered.

* * *

_TBC.._


	9. Chapter 9

A/N - First let me apologize profusely for the appalling delay in posting anything new for this. I have no good excuse, I will only beg your forgiveness and try to do better. Inspiration can be a fleeting thing sometimes! If you are still reading, thanks for sticking with it.

I have included a (very) basic summary of what has gone on already so you don't have to read it again (unless you want to, of course!). I suck at summaries, hence the "very" basic. :)

Disclaimer - I don't own any part of Supernatural. *whine*

The road so far:

The brothers Winchester are on a hunt for a succubus. They cross paths with Sadie, a succubus who isn't quite what she seems and has history with their Dad. In the meantime, Sam is dealing with the bleed-through of soulless memories from behind the wall and Dean is fighting to keep it intact.

* * *

"Your sire?" Dean asked sharply, trying to catch her attention again. The last thing they needed was her panicking if some shit was about to go down.

She nodded dumbly, swallowing visibly. "Yes and he's not alone."

She seemed to snap out of her panic then, pulling away from Sam to move to the door, resting against it to look out the peephole. Whatever she saw didn't make her any happier. She slumped against it for a brief moment, then knocked her head on the hard wood in frustration, the sound loud in the silent room. Sadie turned to face them, the hopelessness in her eyes speaking volumes.

"What's out there?" Sam asked, moving to peek through the ratty orange curtain concealing the window.

"Is the window in the bathroom big enough for you to get out?" she asked, ignoring Sam's question. She didn't wait for an answer, heading towards the room in question to look for herself.

Dean snagged her arm as she walked past him. She stopped abruptly, looking at him in agitation. "We aren't the running type, Sadie. Now what is out there?" he asked her firmly.

Sadie jerked her arm away, but stayed put, her gaze wandering back to the door before focusing back in on Dean. "He won't want to get his hands dirty, so he'll have sent more than one of his little army," she spat out, mouth tight. "I can sense four succubi, but there may be more on the way. They are waiting right now, I don't know what for, but I'm sure there isn't a lot of time."

"Okay, well three of us, four of them, I'm not minding the odds." While it wasn't completely true, even one succubus was a challenge for two people, Dean needed her calm and focused.

"We'll keep you safe," Sam chimed in, sincerity coating his words. His check out the window had been fruitless. He wasn't sure what Sadie was sensing, but Sam didn't see anyone in the parking lot, not even a car that hadn't been there before.

She huffed out a laugh, short and incredulous. Dean's back straightened, his lips parting to say something scathing about her unnecessary judgment of their abilities, but she started talking before he could unleash.

"It's not me I'm worried about. If he sent them in force like this, that means he's not just after me. I'd have a hard time taking out one, much less four, it's overkill. He's gotten wind of what you are, or even worse, who you are," she stated.

"Why would it matter who we are?" Sam asked, perplexed.

"John Winchester is a name he'll remember forever. Your Dad managed to put a major hurt on him and I think he would take great pleasure in wiping out his children. He's petty like that," she explained, lip curled in disdain. "Best case scenario, he just got wind that I went home with two men and he thinks I've finally succumbed so sent a welcoming party. Worse case, he found out who you are and decided to get some revenge."

"Well I say we plan for worst case, it's usually what happens anyway," Dean suggested wearily. He had been prepared to hunt a succubus. He had not been prepared to deal with four of them at once. He wished his head was a little clearer and less painful and that he'd at least been able to grab a shower, breakfast, and some coffee, but this was good as he was going to get for a while. "Sam, I call the knife," he tossed out with a smirk, already heading over to the duffel bag to collect what weapons they had with them.

Sadie threw her hands up, waving them like she was trying to stop a truck from running into her. "Woah, woah, woah. This isn't your fight. I'm going to go out there and do what I can to distract them while you run. I'm not going to get you killed," she exclaimed, concern flashing across her face.

"Sadie, we aren't shrinking violets clutching our pearls here. Killing things that need it is what we do. Hiding behind hundred pound girls is not," Dean argued, tossing the duffel bag on the bed so he could get at it easier.

Sadie looked beseechingly over at Sam, hoping he would side with her, but she was wrong. "He's right. We're hunters, it's what we're trained to do," Sam assured her. "Besides, if they are after us specifically, they'll just follow us."

"Man, I wish we could get out to the car," Dean grumbled, reviewing the meager supply of weapons spread over his mussed bed. He had his Colt, his bowie knife, the demon knife and the sawed off shotgun. With a sigh, he started tucking them into various parts of his clothing.

Crossing over to his own bag, Sam followed Dean's lead and laid out his weapons. He had basically the same assortment; Taurus, machete and sawed off. The guns wouldn't be much help, though the salt rounds in the shotgun could have its uses. His weapon of choice would be the machete; he had used that more than once to remove a head from something's shoulders. He glanced over at Sadie who was watching their efficient movements with a frown.

"Which one do you want?" Sam asked her, cocking open the shotgun to make sure it was loaded.

For a moment, she didn't say anything, just let her eyes rove over the weapons before lifting back up to his. "I don't much use weapons," she admitted quietly. "When it's me versus a full-fledged succubus, I rarely get the upper hand."

That caught Dean's attention. "Come on, you were raised by a hunter, I'm sure he taught you something," he said lightly.

"Yeah, to run," she replied simply. "I was bait more often than not."

Dean leveled a look at her. "Well, running isn't an option we have, so we'll need to get more hands on. Do you at least know how to handle a shotgun?" he asked.

Sadie nodded. "Yes, I can manage that."

Picking up the shotgun and the extra cartridges he had floating around his bag, he walked over to her and placed it into her waiting hands. It was obvious that she was incredibly nervous about the coming fight, evidenced by the trembling fingers closing around the stock of the gun, her still too pale features. He knew she wasn't helpless, had she wanted to, she would have been able to escape from them, or worse, kill them, but he couldn't trust her to have their backs. He didn't know her, not really, and her debt to their father could be easily forgotten if her own life was on the line. So as far as he was concerned, it was really just he and Sam getting ready to face off against a small army of succubi. He just hoped she wouldn't be a liability.

"This is loaded with rock salt. It won't kill them, but the salt stings like a son of a bitch and should slow them down a bit. Just keep it away from me and Sam, all right?" he warned, his tone and eyes very serious.

She stared dubiously at the weapon in her hands. "I don't like this," she whispered. "Yet again, good people are in trouble because of me." She looked up at him then, eyes wide and pleading. "I'm going to ask one last time, please run. I really can handle this myself."

"Nope," Dean replied with a smile.

"Hey," Sam said softly, coming over to join them. "Whatever happens, we signed up for it, okay? It won't be your fault." he encouraged, squeezing her gently on the shoulder. "We're actually pretty good at this."

Sighing, she shook her head slightly. "Okay, then. If I can't talk you out of it, then we need to be as prepared as possible," she said, the concern in her eyes changing to resolve. "I can make you immune to their pull so they can't take you over. Succubi can't claim someone if they already belong to another succubi. So I need to claim you," she explained.

The brothers glanced at each other with identical expressions of doubt. "Uh, what does that mean exactly?" Dean asked nervously, looking back at her. Thoughts of a very unsexy threesome involving his brother were running through his head and it was not pleasant. He was actually grateful he hadn't had breakfast yet, because he might have almost lost it. Judging by the grimace on Sam's face, he had gone there as well and found it equally appealing. Brain bleach, code red.

She laughed, correctly identifying the cause of their horror. "Not what you're thinking, I assure you. Just a kiss will do. I'll push in a tiny amount of my power, just enough to keep you safe from other succubi. It won't harm you in any way and I assure you that I'll have no more control over you than I do right now," she reassured them. "I promise to make it quick and painless. I might have beer breath, but it's not my fault I couldn't brush my teeth."

"No side effects?" Dean asked suspiciously.

"No, it's such a small amount, it won't cause any trouble," Sadie swore.

For a moment, they just looked at her, mistrust rising up again. It was hard to let go of years of training and conditioning to trust no one but themselves. They had found some common ground with her and they did believe that she had been honest, but there was always that little niggle of doubt. Dean settled it.

"Hell, it's practically coded in my DNA to never turn down a kiss from a gorgeous woman. Besides, you already planted one of me when I was out of it, might be nice to do it awake this time," Dean said with a saucy smile, one eyebrow cocked.

Sadie smiled, and looked over at Sam. "I'm in," he said.

In the end it was no big deal. When Sadie's lips touched his, Dean behaved himself, arms at his sides, letting her direct it. It was over practically before it even started and he couldn't help but feel just a bit disappointed about that. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but he didn't feel any sort of power, it was just a kiss. The kiss she shared with Sam was also short and perfunctory, though Sam had to participate just a bit more since he was so freakishly tall, bending down and placing a steadying hand at the small of her back as she lifted up on her toes to reach his mouth.

"Okay," she said, sitting back on her heels. "That should do it. Should last for a few days."

"So where are they?" Sam asked. "I didn't see anything outside."

Sadie closed her eyes, forehead wrinkling in concentration. "They are just outside. I can feel some heavy magic out there. My guess is that they have been clouding up the minds of the other people in the motel to leave, or at least to ignore what's going to happen in here." Her eyes opened again. "I think we just need to open the door, step outside and it'll be on."

Dean twirled the serrated demon knife in his hand. "Let's get this show on the road, then."

* * *

After some discussion that ended up getting a bit heated, it was decided that Sadie would go first. Dean had been trying to insist that he should be point man, but Sadie pointed out that she would have a better chance at finding them if they weren't in plain sight and that she could take more damage than they could. Dean didn't like it, but he gave in. They were valid points.

Sam stepped behind the door, and meeting both of their eyes to get their confirmation they were ready, he pulled it open. Sadie moved out the door into the sunlight, shotgun held firmly in her hands. Dean followed, Sam just behind him. It was eerily quiet outside. The motel was set far enough away from the main road that they couldn't hear traffic noise, but the absence of car noise wasn't what was missing. In a motel of such dubious quality as this one, they should easily be able to hear TVs playing, voices, see people getting into their cars to head off to their destination. There was nothing except the wind and the chirping of birds.

A loud bang sounded behind them, and all three swung around to see a young blonde woman standing by the room they had just left, her hand still on the knob of the door she had slammed shut. She smiled at them slyly, her eyes raking over Sam and Dean with lascivious intent. The brothers immediately took up defensive stances, their blades held ready.

"Aren't the two of you tasty treats," she drawled, her tongue running over her lips. Her gazed moved to Sadie then, all seductive playfulness bleeding away. "You should keep better company, Sadira. You know they're hunters, right?" she directed to Sadie.

"It's Sadie. I don't recognize the name he gave me," Sadie bit out coldly. "You know me, but I don' t know you. Care to share?"

The blonde pushed off the door starting towards them. Sam and Dean backed up accordingly. "No you don't know me, but it doesn't matter. You know who sent me. You know what I'm going to do. I think that's all you need to know."

Without any additional warning, she leaped towards Sam, grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket before he could move away. She launched him into the air, his momentum stopped abruptly when he met the side of a van parked a few spaces away. Pain blossomed up into his back, then in his hands and knees as he fell down onto all fours, the rough asphalt scraping away a few layers of skin. He managed to keep his grip on the machete by some miracle and he quickly shot up to his feet to face her charge.

Dean called out when he saw Sam go down, but suddenly he was busy with his own attacker, sharp fingers clawing at his shoulder to swing him around. He saw a blur of dark hair and thrust his knife out blindly, smiling in satisfaction when it connected solidly with her stomach, her arrogant eyes filling with pain and horror as the knife's magic bleed her life out of her. He immediately looked back towards his brother, pleased to see that he was holding his own with the blonde. Another quick glance towards Sadie's position showed that she was facing off against another blonde, swinging the shotgun like a baseball bat at her head.

He turned back to head to Sam, right into yet another succubus' fist, the power of it knocking him on his ass and splitting his lip open. Damn, these bitches were quiet! She was immediately on top of him, one hand curling punishingly around his throat, the other at his wrist, keeping the knife away from her. Obviously she'd seen what it did to the other one. Dean bucked beneath her, but she only made a cooing noise and rubbed her groin hard against is as her fingers tightened up even more on his throat. Fighting for breath, Dean threw a punch into her face, but she just laughed at him. She leaned over him, her lips approaching his, and he tried to twist away, but his movement was limited by the hand just below his jaw. With his free hand, he reached behind him to grab his gun, not hesitating to shove it under her chin and pull the trigger.

Blood sprayed out behind her head as the impact of the bullet threw her backwards over his body. A succubus might technically be immune to regular bullets, but he didn't think she was going to walk away from that one. He crawled out from underneath her, forcing painful breaths past his bruised throat into his empty lungs. Her wide eyes were staring sightlessly, but Dean wasn't taking any chances. He stabbed her with the knife as a precaution, but she was indeed dead, no orange light coming from the wound.

Sam was beside him suddenly, helping him to his feet, machete dripping with blood beside his thigh. Dean quickly looked Sam over, relieved that he didn't appear to be injured in any way. He then looked around for Sadie, finding her moving towards them, the succubus she had been fighting with lying motionless behind her. That little fight had been a lot easier than he expected. It didn't feel right. The last time he went up against a succubus, it had been with his Dad and it had been a challenge. Stitches and concussions and talks of hospital, challenge. Just one sex thirsty bitch and supreme hunter extraordinaire;John Winchester. So how did they just blow through four of them without breaking a sweat? One glance at Sadie's confused face as she looked over the bodies said she was thinking the same thing

"Everyone in one piece?" Dean asked hoarsely, his abused throat protesting the use.

Sadie nodded, but Sam was just staring at him, more specifically at his mouth, with dawning horror, his face going milk white. His breathing was growing labored, his mouth twisting into a tortured line. His eyes were distant, unfocused, seeing things besides his brother.

"Sam?" Dean prompted, uncertain about what was going on with his brother. When he got no response, he shook Sam by the shoulder. "Sammy, you all right?"

Sam's eyes snapped up to his then, wide with panic and rapidly filling with tears. He backed away from Dean jerkily, like his legs didn't want to hold him. Dean moved forward to clasp his arm, running his eyes over him again to look for an injury that might be causing…well whatever the hell was going on.

"Talk to me Sam. What's going on?" Dean asked urgently, his brother's freaked out state really starting to rub off on him. It could only mean one thing. Another memory. And by the way Sam had been starting at his bloody mouth, he had an idea which one. Shit.

* * *

TBC...


	10. Chapter 10

A/N - Nothing for too long and then two chapters back to back! I'm on a roll! Well, it's because I was really looking forward to this one, I love it when the brothers have their little moments. Thanks so much to all of you that have read this so far, especially those that have reviewed and are following. Feedback is very appreciated!

* * *

"What's wrong with him?" Sadie asked in concern.

Dean wasn't about to open that can of worms with her right now. "Don't worry about. Is there anyone else we need to deal with?" he asked her curtly, eyes still firmly on his brother. He knew it was probably rude to shut her off like that, but he didn't particularly care at the moment.

"No, that was it, but we need to clear out in case more are coming. I think that was just a little test, a teaser. He wouldn't care about losing them, he has plenty in his army. They were probably newly turned," Sadie answered.

That caught Dean's attention. "That's the second time you've mentioned an army. We're going to need to have a chat about what that means. Right now, I need to take care of my brother."

Sam was still staring at him, trembling and looking shocky. Dean didn't like it one little bit and he needed to get him safe. If more of those bitches came for them while he was like this, Sam wouldn't be able to defend himself. He dragged Sam's unresisting form over to the car, helping his large form into the passenger seat. Once inside, Sam folded in on himself, his head falling into his hands, sobs tearing out of his throat.

"Come on Sammy, don't do this, okay?" Dean heard his own voice break, felt his own torment at seeing his little brother so distraught. It was breaking, that damn wall, piece by piece. Maybe this was his punishment for not completing Death's challenge. He got the wall, but it was inferior craftsmanship. It was made to hold up just long enough to make them think it was going to work, to only start breaking apart under the slight pressure of their sigh of relief. "Whatever you saw, it wasn't your fault. Just breathe for me, all right? I'm going to get our stuff and we're going to get out of here. Just sit tight," Dean soothed, placing a hand on top of Sam's head. Sam didn't respond to the words or the touch, just tried to make himself smaller in the seat.

Sam wanted to reach out to Dean, wanted to pull him close, feel his warm skin, his heart beating, all signs that he was alive, but he couldn't. He didn't deserve Dean's concern, he didn't deserve his love. What he had done…how could Dean even be in the same room as him, even speak his name? How could he have been so far gone that he could have done that to his own brother, the most important person in the world to him?

When he'd seen the blood on Dean's mouth, he had been hit with an image so strong that he didn't even need to relive the memory like he had the first one. It was just there, like a door that was suddenly flung open in his head. His brother, held against a dumpster by a vampire, barely conscious. His own hesitation in wanting to see how it would play out. The satisfaction of seeing a perfect opportunity present itself when the vamp bled into Dean's mouth, smearing its blood over his lips. The complete and utter lack of concern about what that meant for his brother. Yes, he'd been aware of a cure, but trying to get a new vampire to not feed in time to administer it wasn't easy. Dean was strong, though, he had reasoned in purely logical thought, if anyone could beat it he could. And if not? Well then, he would deal with it.

Pulling away from Dean's hand at his head, he tried to disappear, tried to just curl up into himself so he would cease to be. How was he ever going to fix what he'd done? And a more horrifying thought occurred to him; was there worse to come?

Dean felt Sam cringe away and he frowned in helpless despair at his brother's condition. The best thing he could do now was get moving. He swung around and strode into their room, his calm but determind face hiding the turmoil churning in his head. He didn't notice that Sadie had followed him until she spoke.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked quietly.

Shaking his head, he started to throw their belongings into their duffel bags. "No. Sam's dealing with some stuff right and it can hit him pretty hard. I just need to get him somewhere he can rest and he'll be good as new." A complete lie, but he was hoping that saying it might make it true.

Sadie watched him for a moment, her eyes filled with concern and indecision. Dean disappeared into the bathroom to grab their toiletries and when he came out, she looked like she still hadn't decided if she was going to spit out what she was obviously chewing on. Dean was running out of patience. What was happening with Sam wasn't her fault, and he didn't want to bite her head off, so he stopped for a moment and looked at her expectantly.

"He'll keep coming after you," she blurted. "He knows you exist now. He's powerful, has eyes all over the world. More than that, he's bored. He'll be excited when he hears how easily the two of you snuffed out his welcoming party and it'll just get harder from here."

"So what are saying? That we'll have succubi on our asses until the end of time?" Dean grated out, returning to packing the duffels.

"Possibly. Probably. He doesn't have anything better to do," she answered sadly.

"Well then he just bought himself a ticket on the Winchester Death Train, but I have to deal with Sam first," Dean said, giving the room once last once over before he zipped up the duffels and took them up in his hands.

"It won't be easy," she called after him as he headed back out of the room.

"Nothing ever is," Dean muttered wearily.

Sam was still in the passenger seat, Dean noted with relief, and he wasn't curled up in a ball anymore, but the devastation in his fixed, staring eyes wasn't an improvement. Those eyes flicked to Dean for a moment, then skipped away, but not before Dean saw the guilt and shame in that shell shocked gaze. Yeah, he knew exactly what had come back to Sam and it was one memory that he had been hoping Sam would never get back.

Dean popped open the trunk and set the bags inside, shutting it with a harder slam that necessary. He didn't like taking his tension out on his girl, but he needed to do something. He really didn't want to have the conversation that he knew was waiting for him as soon as he got in the car, not for himself, but because he knew how much this one was tearing Sam up. If their roles had been reversed, Dean knew he would never forgive himself, soulless or not. He just had to convince Sam to let it go, if it was even possible.

"You coming with us?" Dean asked Sadie, who had followed him out to the car. He had accepted that she was going to be in their lives until they sorted this out, but he really wanted some time alone with Sam to help talk his little brother off the ledge.

"Not right away. I need to recharge, so to speak. I'll take care of the mess here and meet back up with you later so we can come up with a plan of attack, assuming you'll still want to go after him once I let you know exactly what you're up against," she warned.

"Oh, I'll want to go after him, I promise you that." Dean pulled out his phone. "What's your number?" As Sadie relayed the digits, Dean programmed it in.

"Okay, we'll get a few hours away then I'll give you a call so you can come meet us," he said. A part of him doubted that she gave him the right number or that she would actually meet up with them again, but a bigger part knew that she would. She had a thing about keeping them safe and knowing that they were in her sire's eyes, she wouldn't abandon them now.

"Sounds good. Be careful Dean, watch your back," Sadie cautioned.

"Always do," he responded with a sad, watered down version of his usual cocky smile. It was the best he could manage at the moment.

Dean got into the car, slamming the door shut and starting the ignition in one smooth motion. A glance at his brother revealed that Sam was calmer now, his breathing mostly back to normal, only marred by the occasional hitch on a repressed sob. His color was better, but the skin around his eyes was still puffy and red from the tears. He still wouldn't look at Dean. Dean headed them out to the road, pointing towards the freeway. He had no destination in mind, just away from here.

"You want to tell me what that was about, Sammy?" Dean asked softly. He knew treading lightly was the only way to proceed with his fragile brother.

Sam wasn't sure how to begin. He still couldn't believe Dean was even here, beside him, after what had happened. "I uh..I remembered…" His voice sputtered out, the hot burn of tears starting to flood his eyes again. He felt the urge to fling open the car door and leap out onto the road, let the asphalt shred him up, rip away the layers of flesh so that maybe he could rip out the memories too. Leave the logical, practical side of him that had caused so much pain and trouble broken and bleeding on the shoulder.

"Come on, Sammy, it's all right. I'm not going to jump down your throat for having a memory, at least not right away, okay?" Dean said, trying to keep his tone light.

Watching the scenery fly by out the window as Dean hit the highway and accelerated, Sam couldn't help but see his reflection and he focused in on it, glaring at the eyes glaring back at his. "I let you get turned by that vampire Dean," he whispered huskily, the words cutting into him like white hot knives.

Dean sighed deeply, nodding as Sam confirmed what he had thought. "It wasn't your fault, Sam," he said in response.

Sam's head swung around to face him, twisted and contorted with grief and inner rage. "How can you say that, Dean? Of course it was me, it's in my head, it's my memory!" he cried out.

"Because it wasn't you Sam," Dean said firmly. He was sure Robo-Sam had done some bad shit. He saw some if it first hand and that told him that Sam had spent a year with someone only slightly less sociopathic than himself doing the same awful crap and probably worse. But Dean knew without a doubt, that Sammy, the part that was split from his body, would never have done those things and he refused to let his brother carry that blame if he could help it.

"Yes, it was Dean! I stood there and watched, I was happy about it. God, I was thinking what a good move it was on your part, I wished that I had thought of it sooner," Sam choked out, covering himself with his arms like he was cold, starting to rock slightly in the seat, turning back to the window.

"No, it was half of you and not the better half," Dean insisted, looking over at his broken brother with pained eyes. His fingers tightened on the wheel until the knuckles were white. "You weren't there Sam, all the stuff that makes you my pain in the ass, care about everyone and everything, little brother was still the rope in a tug of war game between Lucifer and Michael. What was up here was just your logic, calculation, and base needs; basically a machine. He had all your memories, but they were just pictures to him. He didn't get the emotion behind it, didn't understand it. Hell, he flat out said he didn't care about me and if there's one thing I know Sammy, it's that you care about me. So he wasn't you, no way," Dean finished, smiling over at Sam's profile.

Sam's eyes turned back to Dean then, seeing that smile that spoke of love and acceptance, and feeling it on his cold skin like the sun peeking out of the clouds. Dean forgave him, through and through, that was obvious, but Sam didn't think he could forgive himself. Dean had spoken about his soulless self like it was another person, but it wasn't really. It had been him. He could ponder all day the philosophical questions this raised about the soul and its place in making a person who they were, but at the end of the day, it was still him. If it had been someone else, he wouldn't have it in his head, he wouldn't remember his own inner voice reasoning it out. Just like when he'd killed that boy in the bathroom. It was expedient to do it. Just like letting Dean get turned was.

"I'm so sorry Dean, please know that. I'm so sorry," he whispered brokenly.

"Oh Sammy," Dean sighed. "This is exactly why I didn't want you poking around. You can't blame yourself for what that dick did. If there's a mess he made and we find out about it, then all right, we'll try and clean it up, but you can't hold yourself accountable. Had you been whole, raised out of hell properly, these things wouldn't have happened, because your soul, your heart, wouldn't let them happen. You had no control over what was going on up here Sam, and quite frankly, it could have been a lot worse. So, even though I know you aren't going to listen to me, try to let it go, little brother. If these memories are just going to keep coming, then we're going to have to deal with that, but you have to start with understanding that it wasn't truly you."

He wanted to. He really did. It would hurt so much less if he could take Dean's words and turn them into truth inside his own head, but he couldn't let it go. Not yet. He had done some terrible things over the course of his life, things that he was sure would make Dean turn on him for good, but Dean always stuck with him. Turning him into a vampire for information had to be pretty close to the top of the list, though still below choosing Ruby over him. He hoped he never topped that, because it would be it for them. He was terrified that there was something still buried inside his head that was going to be that breaking point if and when Dean found out about it.

"Did I do anything else to you?" Sam asked in a small voice, hoping against hope that the answer was no. "And please tell me the truth," he begged in an afterthought. "If you say no and I remember something else, then….I'll think there's just more out there Dean and I'll keep digging."

Dean could feel Sam compelling him to look over at him, but Dean couldn't face him yet. He was still trying to work out if there was anything else Sam would tear himself up over. There was the fairy thing, but Sam did try to find him out of a sense of duty, it just wasn't done with any urgency or actual worry for Dean. So yeah, that would bother Sam, but Dean didn't see it as nearly on par as the vampire issue. At least he hadn't asked about if he'd done anything to anyone else. He wasn't looking forward to Sam remembering trying to kill Bobby. That was now his new nightmare scenario. He finally looked over at his brother, infusing sincerity into every line of his face.

"That's really it, Sam. I mean, having to be the emotional one in our little duo was strange and uncomfortable, but I figure it was my turn. I needed some practice," he threw out towards Sam with a crooked grin.

What filled Sam wasn't exactly relief, but it was a close cousin. Dean could be lying to him to protect him, but he didn't think so. Dean knew he couldn't handle it if he came across something else and found out that Dean had lied. Right now, he needed to trust him implicitly. He wanted to broaden his question, ask if Dean knew about anything else he'd done, but he just couldn't, not know, because there was a tight feeling inside him that that there was something.

Sam was a mess and he knew that it was just going to get worse, but he knew one thing for certain. He had his brother at his side and he wasn't going anywhere. That was really all he needed at the moment to pull himself together and continue on.

* * *

TBC...


End file.
